Victory Day
by WhiteWave14
Summary: Harry grew up in a Rebel camp with Sirius after Voldemort's triumph over Wizarding Britain. Burdened by the Prophecy, he begins to doubt the Rebels' morals and slowly gets caught in his fascination for a certain Dark Lord. WIP, AU. Slow-paced slash, HPLV.
1. Chapter 1

The crowd was ecstatic, people were cheering at the top of their lungs. There was a long procession and triumphant music in the background. Everyone seemed so happy.

Padfoot lifted me on his shoulders, so I could see what was happening. I looked all around and I saw a couple kissing (Eww...), two friends sending each other the biggest grins they could make, their arms around the two girls between them. I saw another little boy who, just like me, had been placed on solid shoulders. He looked like he was about three years old and was clapping on his father's head as the man was swinging with the music. There were merchants making their way through the crowd and selling candy, balloons and toys. Confetti was thrown in the air and raining down on the pavement. It looked like a scene in a fairy tale.

I was eight years old, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, I was loved, I was happy.

And then it all came crashing down. My godfather looked up to me and made a sign with his finger to ask me to bend down to him. When I did, he said in a voice of barely controlled fury:

-We're not here to have fun, Harry. This is serious! Look at the man in the middle of the procession. Remember his face well. You are the Chosen One, and he is your prophesised enemy...

I observed the man. His dark hair was reaching his shoulders as befitted the Lord of a Noble family (Siri had taught me that). He was talking and smiling to another man, blond this time, who looked pure-blooded and rich as well. Nothing like the ill-fitting rags people were wearing back at our camp. The Dark Lord had piercing eyes scanning his surroundings perpetually, always alert even when he seemed engrossed in his conversation. From time to time, he would lift a hand a wave to his loving subjects. That's what it looked like. A ruler deeming his subjects worthy of a smile and a wave. Like in the stories. I imagined then that he was the perfect balance between Merlin and King Arthur (because he looked too young to be Merlin, but he was a wizard like him!). A just monarch who made everyone around him happy.

In the meanwhile, Padfoot was ranting...

-Look at him, he appears like a good man, but it's just a smokescreen! He's rotten inside, he makes everyone miserable, he oppresses the wizarding population, he despises Muggles. He's a real monster. He killed your parents, Harry! My best-friend James and his poor, sweet Lily. Look at him, look at him well. That's why we came here and took the risk to leave our protected home. So you could recognise him and know who you will kill one day to liberate all of us. He's not just a dreamed-up character in your head anymore. Focus on his face, memorise all its lines. One day, this bastard will be dead and we will be free.

It was the anniversary day of the Dark Lord's victory. On the 3rd of April 1984, exactly five years ago, the Dark Lord Voldemort had seized control of the Ministry, St-Mungos, Hogwarts and nearly all the other strongholds of the British Wizarding World. Well, that's not accurate. They were handed to him with a tired sigh of relief after his triumph over Albus Dumbledore, the then Leader of the Light.

After so many years of war and devastation, after the death of so many friends and relatives, many abandoned the cause and accepted the new regime. When people saw that most regulations were reasonable and that most changes might actually better their lives, a majority of the remaining fighters lowered their wands and returned to what was left of their homes and families, to live in peace.

However, a minority refused all compromise, knowing better than anyone else the horrors that this "benevolent" new leader had committed. They preferred to live in uncertainty and in fear than to bend their morals and principles and bow down to the charismatic monster.

My godfather is among them. And they are counting on me to end their misery. To kill a man. To kill this man.

As if he had heard my thoughts, the Dark Lord Voldemort suddenly turned his head towards me. He looked at me in the eyes for a second and I felt like everything had stopped around me. Suddenly, there was no more cheering, no more confetti, the couple from earlier had disappeared. I felt my eyes widen and I gasped involuntarily.

He had beautiful eyes.

He gave a hint of a smile and looked away. The world righted itself.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who reviewed (all three of them, hehe) or favourited or followed! It really encourages me!

_italics_: thoughts

Chapter 2:

It was the night of my eleventh birthday and I was dreaming of ruby-red eyes. Three years had passed since my encounter with the sovereign of the Wizarding World, but I never forgot that moment...or the ones that followed:

When He turned back to the rest of the crowd, I heard Sirius curse under his breath. "Shit, we're spotted!"

I looked around, panicked. Everything seemed normal and happy to me, but Padfoot knows better, normally. He's a Rebel, after all, and one of the most convinced and ruthless of them (or so say the people in my village). I'm just a little boy with a big responsibility on my shoulders...

"Harry, I told you never to look in his eyes, he's a legilimens, he can read your thoughts! He knows! We have to go...now! Here, come down."

Sirius bended down, lifted me from his shoulders and placed me on the ground. He took my hand and hurried away from the cheers, from the laughs, to pull us back to our normal life. I still didn't understand why we had to go. I wanted to look more at the king. I tried to pull against him, to turn back to the procession. I managed, for a second, to get a glimpse of the Dark Lord, but he was looking in the other direction. Disappointment churned in my belly.

"Padfoot! Stop pulling at me! It hurts! Why do we have to go?" I said, a bit desperate.

He stopped, turned to me, looked in my pleading eyes for a second, before sighing and crouching down at my level. He looked at me, his face serious.

"Harry, what were you thinking about when that monster looked at you?"

_That he had beautiful eyes_, I thought silently. _And that he looked like a king_... My eight years old mind knew that this answer would get me in trouble. Sirius never said anything positive about the Dark Lord and he always scolded anyone in the village (even old people!) when he heard them say something that sounded remotely like an approval of the current regime.

"Hem...that he...that I was happy to be here with you, the best godfather in the world?" I said, looking for something that would appease him.

"Harry, I told you, we're not here to make you happy! And... never mind, if you thought about me, he might have picked up who I was. We still have to go. And we're never coming back here, young man, that's for sure.

-But...

-No buts, come on, hurry up."

He took my hand again and started pulling me towards the end of the wards. Since I was still too young to have a wand, we had trained my magical awareness, so I could see a bit of shimmery light forming a dome around the crowd. Usually, I would tell that to my godfather and he would be proud of me, but somehow, I didn't think he would care at this moment. Maybe he would even scold me because he didn't want people to hear me say that. It wasn't a common skill, supposedly.

We arrived at the edge of the wards. Already, he was out of them and pulling me with him. I turned around one last time. Voldemort was standing on a stage, facing the crowd and smiling.

The blond man at his side was looking at us. From what I could see at this distance, he looked intrigued by something. He started to lean on his side to say something to the Dark Lord, his eyes never leaving me. I could see the leader of the Wizarding World beginning to turn toward me and begged inside of my head _Please, please, just a last glance_, but before his eyes met mine, I was pulled sharply out of the wards and felt like I was compressed in a tube.

When I became aware of my surroundings again, I was back at the camp.

I bolted awake, immediately put on my glasses and started looking around frantically. A noise had woken me up..._ah, there!_ An owl was tapping on the glass of my window.

But, why is it here? Normally, all the owls pass through Moody or Sirius before their mail is distributed to the rest of the village. They do all sorts of tests and scans to make sure that it isn't trapped... Should I wake Siri up? Maybe, I'll just have a quick look at it. Nobody really knows I'm in the Rebel camp, so it can't be too dangerous. I'll be careful and look at it well before I open it.

I slid down from his bed, shivering when my feet connected with the cold ground. I slowly made my way to the small window. I fumbled a bit with the lock, and finally managed to open it. The owl swooped in my bedroom, perching itself on the frame of my bed. It was a beautiful snowy owl, its feathers nearly glowing in the pale moonlight filtering from my window. I approached my hand, wanting to caress the soft feathers, but the owl nipped one of my fingers. I let out a startled exclamation.

"Ow! What did you do that for?!", I said, accusingly.

The owl cocked its head and glared at me. It extended its leg to show the letter it had for me.

I bent down, looking at the owl warningly in case it decided to attack me again. I tried to examine the letter without touching it. All I could see is green ink..._Green ink! Wasn't that!? Oh, yes! I'm eleven now!_ I hurriedly detached the parchment from the owl's leg and opened it.

I scanned the content of the letter.

Mister Harry Potter,

It is with great pleasure that...blabla...accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Blabla, answer needed before...blabla...

Professor Slughorn, Deputy Headmaster...

Professor Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Potions Master...

_Snape? I think Sirius mentioned that name before...something about knowing he would be a Death Eater the minute he was sorted in Slytherin. But...if he's a Death Eater, will I be able to attend Hogwarts? No, probably not._ Disappointed fill me. I would never see the school where my parents and Sirius went..._No, no, there has to be a way!_

I paused one moment, wondering why we had never even discussed it before. Sirius had often talked to me about his Hogwarts days with my parents, but he never once mentioned that, one day, it would be my turn to go. _He probably thinks it would be too dangerous, with me being "the Chosen One" and all._ _If I tell him in the morning, he'll probably just burn the letter and strengthen the wards to exclude all letters for me or something. Maybe I should just reply now and say that I'll go? Then, I'll escape from the camp in September and climb in the Hogwarts Express without anybody noticing! And surely, if I'm already there, they won't send me back, right? _Sirius' anxious face flashed in my mind. He would be panicked; _I can't do that to him_.

Was Sirius right when he told me that everybody would know my name? He said that, ten years ago on Halloween, when the Dark Lord came to kill my parents, he tried to kill me as well, but that the killing curse rebounded on him and hurt him instead. Siri also said that, during the next few months, everybody thought he was dead and they all celebrated my name. Apparently, I was nicknamed "the Boy-Who-Survived", or something like that.

_But, why was I sent to the Dursley's then, if everybody loved me? Maybe, nobody thought to ask what was going to happen to me._ Sirius told me that he would have wanted to take care of me then, but he was busy chasing down the one who betrayed my parents, and then, he got caught by his own friends (the Order) who thought HE had betrayed his them...and then, when this got cleared up, I was already in my cupboard and the Dark Lord magically returned to life, looking wayyyy younger and better than he ever did, and being stronger and better organised (and more evil and vicious, Sirius would add at that point), and seducing people to his side easily...and the war started back and everybody thought that my story was just a scam and that Dumbledore had lied to them and that I shouldn't be the "Boy-Who-Was-Innocent-And-Survived-A-Tragedy" anymore but the "Boy-Who-Fooled-Us-All".

So, apparently, they thought that I, a one year old baby, had deliberately arranged that my parents would get killed to be considered a martyr. More or less, anyway. Most of them blamed Dumbledore, actually, but it doesn't change the fact that everybody stopped cheering for me quite fast and started vaguely resenting me.

Sirius told me that I always have to wear something to hide my scar in public because of that and that I would get pretty bad reactions from the population if I told them who I was.

Anyway, long story short, Dumbledore convinced Sirius that it would be better for me to stay at my Aunt's house where I would be safe and not to burden him when he was busy fighting in a war. So, in my cupboard, I stayed, until the war was lost and Sirius came to pick me up and bring me to the newly formed Rebel camp.

At this point in time, I can't say whether I would have preferred to say at my Aunt's place or not. There, I wouldn't have to train all the time and live in fear of an attack. I would have lived these past eleven years in blissful ignorance. And maybe, I would have gone to Hogwarts. And maybe, if people had see that I didn't know about my history at all, they wouldn't be trying to kill me for being a Rebel or something.

Sometimes, I resent Sirius for his choices, even if I know that he tries his best to bring me up to honour my parents. But that's just the thing, though. Is he taking care of me just because of who my parents were, or of whom I'm destined to be? Does he really care for me, just Harry?

I sigh, looking down at the letter again, and looking back up at the owl. _Do I reply yes without talking to him first? Rebel against the Rebels?_ I snicker a bit at the thought.

On one hand, I can't do that to the one person who cares about me. On the other, it will just worry everyone that a letter addressed to my name could reach me. Theoretically, that meant that anybody could sent a letter to a known rebel, like Sirius, and just follow it to our camp. They wouldn't be able to see it, because of the wards, but they could still attack the general location and do quite a bit of damage, or trap us, or bring some ward-breakers and make our protections collapse...

I paused to consider the owl before me. Maybe it was just a very clever owl. I looked at the nasty owl. _Nahh, it was probably just a fluke. I shouldn't put everyone in a state of panic because of a Hogwarts letter. I'll just write a quick refusal tonight, and never mention it again. And we'll see what Sirius says in the morning._

I took a piece of parchment and pondered. _How should I present this? I don't want them to know that I grew up among wizards...Oh, I know, I'll just make them think I'm still at the Dursleys'! With a bit of luck, since there's no address on the envelope, they'll believe me._

_So...how would I phrase it if I had grown up with my Muggle family? Ah, got it!_

I took a muggle pen (it's cheaper that a quill, so that's what we have here) and wrote at the back of the invitation:

Dear freaks,

I'm not interested. Never contact me again or I'll send the army at your doors.

Harry Dursley

I tied it on the owl and attempted to caress her feathers again, but its glare stopped me.

"Alright, alright, susceptible bird, go away then! Merlin, the nerve of that bird!"

The owl hooted at me and took flight out of my window and into the night. I slipped back under my covers and willed myself back to sleep. _We will see what tomorrow will bring._

Tomorrow, or today, as it turned out, did not bring anything, except for worried looks from Sirius. He was nervous and jittery, looking at the sky every five minutes, anticipating the owl that was supposed to arrive for me.

And all day long, I waited with bated breath to see what he would tell me. I did enough accidental magic in front of him (as abused magical children tend to do) after he picked me up from my cupboard at the Dursleys' that he could never think I was a Squib. That wasn't the problem. That's not why he was worried. He was probably preparing himself for a difficult conversation with me where he would have to explain just why I couldn't go to Hogwarts as my late parents and the great majority of the British Wizarding community did.

I waited to see what he would do, what he would tell me if I didn't get a letter. I thought that I could use his reaction to this precise situation as a guideline for the rest of his personality.

In my head, the right way to react would be to sit down with me and explain to me that I should have had a letter to Hogwarts but that, probably because of the wards or something else, I couldn't receive it. He would then reassure me that I wouldn't need to go at that remote school, because he would personally make up for it by tutoring me, and by finding someone to complete his teaching in areas where he didn't feel competent enough. He would explain to me that Hogwarts would be dangerous, and that he was not willing to take any chances with the life of his precious godson, who, incidentally, is like a real son to him.

That would be a 10 out of 10 answer for me. That's the reassurance I desperately craved from him. Sirius is always so busy...Sure, he takes some time off his planning to have dinner with me sometimes, and, when I was younger, he'd read me a story before I went to bed from time to time, but he passes the majority of his time with Moody, and Kingsley, and his cousin Tonks who recently graduated from Hogwarts and is their undercover spy in the Auror department.

I don't really like Tonks because every time she comes back to the camp now, everybody cheers her like she's a hero, and Sirius will always clap on her shoulders or hug her and he'll just look so proud of her all the time. I know she's not a bad person and she was always nice to me, but I suppose I'm just a bit jealous of her. Partly because I'm not sure if Sirius loves me as much as he loves her.

If Sirius explains to me that I should have received a Hogwarts letter, it will be because he loves me. It will be my proof. I won't complain anymore. I just want that.

I'll stop thinking all those rebellious thoughts about how I would like to go to another Victory Day celebration to see the Dark Lord again, and about how I think it's a good idea to steal the Muggleborns away from their parents if they are abusive or if they don't want to make an oath of secret. After all, I know now that being shoved in a cupboard isn't a normal behaviour for guardians and, who knows what else would have happened if I'd stayed there? Other children don't deserve it either...

So yes, all this stuff I keep deep inside myself, it will all stop. I'll confess, and we will work together to stop me getting them from now on. I'll do it for Sirius, if he proves me that he loves me enough to not withhold information from me.

So I observed him, all day long, for my confirmation, as closely as I could without alerting him to what I was doing.

He smiled nervously at me 5 times after looking up to an empty sky. He ruffled my hair twice and he didn't let me leave his sight the whole day. Clearly, he knew something should have happened by now.

We were dining in the common area of the village (it's a camp, really, but I prefer to call it village, it makes it more homely, in my head), when he attempted to breach the subject. He gulped down his food, tore out little pieces of bread and dropped them in his soup, sighed, and turned to me.

"Harry", he said in a hesitating voice "you know you're eleven today, right?" He looked away from me.

"Yeah, I know, you didn't forget my birthday cake, right?" I asked, in a suspicious voice, careful not to show what I was thinking.

"No, no, don't worry, I have it. It's just, you know, every wizard... in the life of a wizard, certain things... hum." He stopped talking, swore a bit under his breath and looked like he debated with himself.

After a moment of silence, I asked: "So...what happens in the life of a wizard?"

He stayed silent. Then he took a big breath. _This is it! Sirius does love me then! I was right!_

"When a wizard is eleven...

-Yes?

-When a wizard becomes eleven, they go get their wands."

My stomach twisted painfully and my heart ached. He exhaled loudly and almost seemed to deflate in front of me. I carefully blanked my expression and forced it to turn into one of surprise and delight.

"A wand? So cool! Really? Where will we get it?

-We discussed it, Harry, and the other leaders of the camp agree with me. Your task is too important to carry out with a second-hand wand. You have to have your own. We'll go see Ollivander tomorrow."

I was surprised. Ollivander was in Diagon Alley, and we basically never went there. I accompanied Sirius once when he had something to pick up from a contact that couldn't leave the Wizarding World and we were both under disguises. People told me that Ollivander could always recognise and remember all of his clients and their wands, so it was a big risk to take. I guess it's one advantage to having a Task to carry out. People are willing to take risks for you. Or sacrifice themselves for you, like my parents did. No, really, I hated "having a Task", partly because I hate when people get hurt because of me, but I really wanted a wand to myself so I wouldn't protest this time.

"Great, Padfoot! When are we going tomorrow?

-Just after breakfast. I'll wake you up if you oversleep."

We finished our food in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. That night, when he thought I was asleep, he came to my room and sat on my bed. He touched my forehead, on top of my scar, and he whispered: "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. It's simpler like that."

When he left, I opened my eyes and stared at my darkened room without seeing it. I concluded that Sirius was sorry that he didn't love me. I also concluded that I could now harbour my traitorous thoughts without any remorse, that I would always keep them inside of me without telling him, because if I did say something, he might start to hate me instead of just not caring.

Next chapter is in Voldemort's POV. I think you'll like it. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Thank you again to those of you who reviewed, it's really appreciated! And for those who just favourited or followed, well, thank you as well and please please please help me and send me a short review! :)

And besides, this one is my favourite chapter up to date, so it's worth it!

* * *

Chapter 3: 1st of August, 1991

The leader of the British Wizarding World was sitting in his office late at night, looking over a new law proposal that would be submitted to the Wizengamot the next day. The wind was howling outside and the windows were rattling, but nothing broke the concentration of the powerful man. When the Dark Lord was satisfied with his work, he put down his feather and massaged his temples.

A sigh climbed its way up to his lips, but he clenched the urge down. He was where he always wanted to be. He was the ruler of the Wizarding World, for Morgana's sake! Couldn't he, at last, be satisfied with his life? The Rebels were isolated, weak, and hopeless, he had treaties of alliance with most of the neighbouring countries (_and the others would give in soon enough when they see what I have planned for them_, he thought with a sly smirk.) and the economy was thriving, making those greedy Goblins happy as well. However, he couldn't help but to be bored, sometimes. The lack of challenge, he supposed._ I might get Severus and Lucius to duel me simultaneously tomorrow, that combination should need a minimum of effort from my part. Yes, that will do fine. _

His alert senses picked up the presence of an owl outside his window seconds before the bird arrived. He opened the window with a wave of his hand (one can lose their ability to do wandless magic if they do not practice enough. It wouldn't do for him to lose this edge now) and cast numerous complex charms of detection. His wards would have picked up anything obvious, but, as the sole Master of the British Wizarding World (as he liked to remind himself often), one could never be too careful. He suspected that, was he to be hit again by a killing curse, he would not be so lucky as to regain a body within a few months this time. He had contingency plans for such an eventuality, but it would delay him too much in the accomplishment of his vision...

The owl came out clean, but when he opened the letter, a little glass tube fell out at the same time. Who would send him a memory vial? He checked the letter. Ollivander, apparently.

It read:

To the Dark Lord and Beloved Leader of the British Wizarding Nation,

As per your request, I am hereby informing you that a customer came to my shop today and purchased the other wand. For security reasons, I shall not say anything else here. The tube will self-destroy if anyone uses another wand than yours to open it.

Your humble subject and wand-maker,

Garrick Ollivander

The Dark Lord let the parchment roll back on itself while he thought of this new development. Who could have the brother of his wand? An eleven years old going to Hogwarts, perhaps? Circe, he hoped it wasn't Lucius' spawn. That child's head could only inflate so much more before it exploded.

He summoned his Pensive, transferred the memory and dived in.

The dusty old wand shop hadn't changed at all since his last visit so long ago and Ollivander, sensing a client approaching, disillusioned himself in a corner to have a few moments to observe their behaviour. The old man had once told him that he could, in such a short time, determine the type of wood and sometimes even the type of core of the wand which would chose his new client by evaluating their character. It worked for the majority of clients, anyway. But there were always a few exceptions, and the Dark Lord was secretly proud that the wand that chose him surprised Ollivander greatly.

The entrance bell rang; a blond man with brilliant green eyes entered the shop, pulling a boy of about eleven with him. He looked around, trying to appear casual, but to any keen observers (and both Ollivander and him were so), he showed in every glance and every curt movement that he was both nervous and afraid. The Dark Lord's observant eyes detected a faint shimmer around the face of the man. _He must be wearing a glamour_. Buying a first wand for your son doesn't require such precaution usually. Voldemort turned his eyes on the boy that accompanied him. He might be the source of man's anxiety.

At a first glance, he didn't recognise him. He looked like the average boy, except for his wild dark hair, and his eyes of the same green as the glamoured parent. He appeared to be trying to adopt a neutral, blank face, but he only managed to look bored and slightly resentful whenever he looked at his father. _So, this is the owner of the brother of my wand...a bit disappointing, I'd say. He doesn't seem to appreciate his gift of magic as much as I did at his age._ His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he noticed that the boy, after a quick look around, was squinting at the place where Ollivander was hidden, as if he was trying to see under the Disillusionment charm! Was he magic-sensitive? Was he trained? Just who was that boy? He looked at him more carefully...those eyes remind me of someone else, of a young woman, some time ago. Or maybe, of a baby? The memory was just out of his reach.

Ollivander chose that time to make his entrance. The boy, who had still been looking in his direction, lifted an eyebrow and had a small self-satisfied smirk. His father, however, jumped a bit and turned around quickly to face him. The wand-maker, who remembers every wand's ever sold, proceeded with his usual greetings.

"Ah, mister Black, or at least I assume it is you under this glamour? Walnut, unicorn hair, 10 inches and a half? And you have brought young mister Potter with you, delightful! Are you getting ready for Hogwarts, young man?

Black, none too happy to have been recognised, brusquely interrupted him and threatened to Obliviate him the minute their business would be done. _It works better when you try to surprise the victim, idiot_.

"Why did you tell him that? Now he'll defend himself better since he's expecting the magic. He'll be building up his mental shields the whole time we're here." said the little Potter, who apparently had an alarming level of knowledge on memory charms.

"Yes, I know brat, I taught you that," said Black with a slightly frustrated tone. "It's just that normally, when you say that, then the people panic, and they offer you an oath of silence instead. Like now, old man, which do you prefer?"

Ollivander replied by drawing his wand silently. _Will this end in a battle?_ the Dark Lord wondered as he saw Black draw his own in a flash while Potter drew...a knife from his side pocket? A big, sharp-looking knife. And he looked worriedly at ease holding it. _What else did Black teach him? By Salazar, does he know of the Prophecy? Is he training him to kill me? _

Voldemort, after his body was killed by his own rebounded curse, had erred as a spirit for a few months before he felt called by one of his horcruxes. He had long hesitated before handing the diary to Lucius, all those years ago, but he then saw that his choice had been the right one to make. In a rare moment of sanity, he had even told Lucius that, were he to suddenly disappear, his loyal Death Eater should find a weak-minded wizard or witch and give the diary to them.

Lucius gave the diary to Peter Pettigrew, who had come to seek refuge in his manor. Within a few months, his horcrux had fulfilled its purpose and managed to create a body (killing Pettigrew in the process, but it wasn't a great loss to his ranks). He reunited with the first part of soul he had severed and, as a result, regained a precious part of his lost sanity. He had then sat down and evaluated the decisions he had taken in the last twenty years and found most of them illogical and counter-productive: For instance, since when did he believe in prophecies? How many of them are left unfulfilled on the shelves of the Department of Mystery? After some research, he discovered that only a small proportion of them were fulfilled and that, of those, most only worked because the people concerned by the prophecy had actually heard it, and acted in consequence. In the light of such an eye-opening conclusion, he had decided that he would not lose one more of his precious minutes actively searching for the boy. Anyway, it would be quite some time before a baby could become his equal, realistically.

And over the time, well, by Morgana, he had nearly forgotten about the boy! He's eleven, already? Ah, now he remembered the eyes. His mother had so brazenly glared at him seconds before she died, offering her sacrifice to save her son at all costs. Such devotion had surprised him. His own mother had, after all, abandoned him to a miserable life in an orphanage because she was heartbroken over the loss of his cowardly Muggle of a father.

Ollivander then said something that caught his attention.

"So he's not going to Hogwarts then?

-No, it's too dangerous for him there, you understand, with the part he played in the Voldemort's downfall." _Is that so? _ thought the Dark Lord, surprised. He didn't think anybody had tried to hurt the Potter boy in the past ten years, but he could be wrong. _If he'd gone to Hogwarts, I would have been able to control him better, to know what he was up to. This whole thing is starting to worry me, slightly. What else are Black and the other Rebels teaching the boy?_

"Short absence, you mean", corrected Ollivander who, by now, probably knew he would send him a copy of the event afterwards and was laying it thick to appear like a loyal follower and not someone who had Black in reach and just let him go.

"More like resurrection, I'd say. But anyway, he didn't even receive an Hogwarts letter, so the question was solved by itself." added Black with a careless wave. The Potter boy, who had returned to his attempted neutral face, bristled quite visibly at that, clenching his fists. Then, the rebel proceeded to explain to the wandmaker that his godson wasn't a Squib, but that perhaps Snape's old hatred for James Potter would explain why the Headmaster had crossed Harry's name from the list of attendees. The longer he talked, the more furious Harry happened to be. At first, the Dark Lord thought the boy shared the same hatred for Severus as did Black and Potter, but he soon realised that Harry was directing his glare toward his beloved godfather. _Trouble in paradise, I wonder? Hum...perhaps he would, with a bit of..._

A dozen of wand boxes exploded from their shelves and the window panel in a display shattered noisily. Ollivander and Black turned to Potter hastily and saw the boy shaking his head and breathing deeply.

"I'm sorry", he said to Ollivander. "All this talk is making me a bit anxious, I'm afraid. I think we should hurry up before anybody else comes in."

"Hum, yes, it's a good idea. Well, then, come here, we have to measure you, young man," replied Ollivander, visibly surprised.

While the usual procedure went on and they started trying wand after wand, Voldemort observed the rebel. _This one has been a thorn at my side for much too long._ Not that the Rebels had any impact on his regime. The only ones they make miserable are themselves, living in the dirt like they did (_although I admit to partial responsibility for their poverty. I did get the Goblins to freeze their assets after all..._). Most of the population don't even like them because they often broke windows and did a bit of scavenging during their "raids". The public just wanted the war to be completely over. _And I, in the meanwhile, use their so-called "menace" to pass stricter regulations and give myself more control over the rest of the population. If I really wanted this group of misfits eradicated, I'm sure it could be done within a month._

"Holly, Phoenix feather, 11 inches, nice and supple." _Ah, there we are at last_. A stream of red and gold sparked from the wand. _Sickeningly Gryffindor_, Voldemort thought a bit childishly.

(extract taken from _Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone_, p. 67. edits underlined)

Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious...

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry, curiously, had visibly brightened at this admission. He looked almost eager. His godfather was watching him closely from the corner of his eye, a disapproving frown on his face and lips tightening visibly.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... The Dark Lord is, after all, a brilliant and powerful man_._

Harry shivered and bit his lips, glanced nervously at his godfather who forced himself to adopt a falsely cheerful facial expression. Black then paid the seven galleons for the wand and made Ollivander take a vow never to reveal what happened during their visit in the shop. Ollivander vowed never to talk about it with anyone (but it didn't include showing a memory, apparently) and bowed them from his shop.

(end of extract)

The memory ended and the Dark Lord was propelled back to his office chair. He put one elbow on his worktable and brought a finger to his lips, caressing them slowly as he thought of the implications of what he had just seen.

Much has been revealed, first, about the Rebels. All these years, he thought they were standing against him either because they thought that they had a chance of defeating him or because they felt honour-bound to do what they thought was the right thing. After witnessing this scene, he was now convinced that the so-called Rebels were just bidding their time until the "Chosen One" went against him and defeated him. They have proven that when they allowed seven Galleons (a considerable sum for impoverished people) to be spent on one wand when they had to steal from time to time to make ends meet.

Does this child even realise the burden they put on him? Yes, he must know of the Rebels' expectations. You could see it in the slight hunch of his shoulders, in his penetrating gaze, in the dark shadows under his eyes. His moment of rage toward his godfather was also quite telling. It meant that they hadn't managed to make a mindless weapon out of him. There were cracks on the armour, and Voldemort would make sure to exploit them if he so needed.

And then there were the strange reactions Potter got whenever Ollivander mentioned his name. They were...positive? Interested? He would have to look again at the memory tomorrow. This called for further investigation.

Well, all in all, an instructive scene. The Dark Lord looked at the paperwork still spread on his desk and put them in a careful order before he headed to sleep.

He took off his robes with a wave of his hand and settled beneath his covers. He lied on his back and looked at the ceiling for a moment, wondering if he forgot something. Shrugging mentally, he closed his eyes and calmed his breathing.

In the seconds before he fell asleep, he remembered. He had seen Harry before, his burdened emerald eyes catching his attention in a crowd at a Victory Day procession, a couple of years ago. Everybody else had seemed so happy that his godfather and him had stuck out like a sore thumb. The child that seemed so downtrodden had gasped in surprise when he saw that the Dark Lord was looking at him. To have so much effect with only a glance had made Voldemort smile a bit.

After this last thought, the leader of the Wizarding World fell asleep, for the first time since the day of his triumph, with a smile on his lips.

The same night, far away in a high tower in Scotland, another veteran of the war was siting at his desk, looking over some paperwork that his Deputy Headmaster thought would interest him.

Slughorn had apparently found the answer to some of the potential students' invitation unorthodox enough to ask him to look over them. And, at the very bottom of the pile of concerned Muggleborns and half-bloods, was Harry Potter's reply.

Hurriedly written with a Muggle pen and with a faint speck of blood at the top left corner of the letter, as if the hand he had used to stop the parchment from rolling on itself was bleeding of a small wound. And it was this wound that caused him such a dilemma.

The paper was not folded or rumpled and had therefore not been stuffed under something else to quickly hide it from view. But it was in such a pristine state (apart from the ink and the blood), that it couldn't have been shown to other people either. It didn't pass from Potter's hands to his guardians' hands like it should have, had they been incredulous or surprised by the news. The presence of only a minimum quantity of the oil residue every hands leave on every surface they touch indicates that it was read perhaps once and then either left on a flat surface for a time, or immediately flipped on the other side where the answer is written.

The only conclusion possible at this stage was to say that the recipient of the letter knew of the existence of magic and was therefore not surprised to receive the invitation. The refusal is categorical, there are no enquiries about whether the Dark Lord would care if he was a half-blood. Potter didn't try to gauge whether he would be well received in Hogwarts, despite his past. He probably thought he would not.

If James Potter's brat knew about magic and didn't want anything to do with it, Severus couldn't care less. It was convenient for him, even. He wouldn't have to keep his foolish promise to protect Lily's son if said son wanted to live like a Muggle. But could he really let Lily's son turn his back on his heritage like that?

And the small wound caused him some concern. Could Potter be abused by his relatives?

_This is getting ridiculous. I am not going to extrapolate from what is probably a paper cut that the boy has been beaten to submission and is too afraid to reach out for help! The boy is better off in the Muggle world or wherever he is hiding if that's where he wants to be. _

Severus sighed in frustration. He put his elbows on the ancient desk and touched the tips of his fingers together in thought. He should inform the Dark Lord of this development. He should, but his master hadn't as much as mentioned the brat since his return. Thankfully. He still didn't know what he would do if he were given the order of finding Potter and bringing him to the Dark Lord. Therefore, he will not the be the one to throw a slicing hex at his own foot and bring up the subject of Potter's fate.

Severus looked at the pile of paperwork, pondering. _Potter's letter was at the bottom completely. I am well-known for being impatient. I could very well have abandoned this useless task before reaching the last of the pile. And if the Dark Lord asks me, I will just say that, since Potter was not in the list of attendees this year for Hogwarts, he must either have refused the invitation or be dead and that this was the only information I had at my disposal. Yes, that should do nicely. _

He stood up in a swift movement, his decision taken. The Potion Master then looked at the pile of parchment lying innocently on his desk. He had already sent his reply to the rest of the letters brought by Slughorn. He gathered all of them in a neat pile with a flick of his wand and threw them forcefully in the fire. He looked at the tall flame licking the sides of his fireplace. The destruction of evidence had always been his favourite part in his work as a spy.

In precise and efficient movements, he did his nightly routine and headed to bed. His last thought that night was: _I hope this will be the last I hear of you, Potter._

* * *

__Voilà! Tell me what you thought of it! I love writing Voldemort's POV, hehe :) He'll be even more awesome in the next chapter, you'll see!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Thank you everyone for your support! It really encourages me to write more when I receive reviews or see that you have favourited my story. My particular thanks to SkylarNight, Reader-anonymous-writer and Guava2 who have repeatedly reviewed this story. I really appreciate it :)

So far, I've posted one chapter per day, but after this one, I'll start updating every second or third day because I have trouble keeping up the writing speed and my new semester starts this week at my university.

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Chapter 4: 10th of August 1995, Part one, At the Rebel's Camp

"No, no, no, Harry! How many times do I have to tell you this! You never follow a blasting curse with a cutting one! The wand movements really don't flow well together. How could you not see that!

-I know, I know, Sirius! Ok, I forgot I had to pass by a banishing spell. I lost about a tenth of second. So what?

-So what? A tenth of a second might be all the time you have to strike! It might be what decides who gets to walk away from a battle and who will rot on the ground. Harry, the Dark Lord is powerful, you have to be the quickest possible. You know those things..."

I blew my bangs out my eyes and lifted my arm to wipe my sweaty forehead with my forearm. Duels were so exhausting... _At least I don't have to worry about stupid glasses anymore..._

"Of course I know that! You've repeated the same things over and over again all my life. By now, I know your whole speech by heart: 'Harry, you have a responsibility towards the rest of the world. I know it's a big weight to bear, but I know you can do it, I trust you, yadda, yadda...' "

I suppressed a sigh. I didn't have much patience for anyone those days...

"I don't know what's gotten to you, Prongslet. You used to do all your exercises without complaining, to be responsible. Ever since you went to the last Victory Day procession, you're not the same, what has changed? Is it because you've seen Him again?"

I cut him off. I couldn't bear to listen to him again, to his concerned and understanding tone when I just wanted him to get angry and shout back at me.

"So what if I've seen Him! It doesn't have anything to do with this! I feel like all my life is about killing one man! All of it! The other teenagers, by now, they are studying for their OWLs, they have friends, relationships, they are asking themselves what they want to do with their life, but I can't! There's nobody of my age here!

-That's not true, Neville's there, " supplied Sirius so helpfully.

"Yes, and what an inspiring companion he is..." I replied, still irritated.

I felt like there was a mass of chaotic energy swirling inside of me and that I was about to blow up from frustration. Suddenly, I wanted out of this useless conversation, out of this dingy training room, out of this life of misery and expectation. I started shouting:

"I'm not going to succeed! I can't kill him. He's too powerful! I'm going to die! And you know it! I see how you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. You always try to convince Moody to keep me in the camp when you go on raids! You know I'm going to die the second I step a foot out of here to carry out my so-called 'mission'! "

I stormed away; unshed tears of frustration brimming in my eyes. I could hear Sirius calling me back, trying to convince that I'm just too young, that I'll be ready one day. I opened the door of our house and slammed it close behind me. _Typical teenage behaviour, I know._ I huffed to myself. If only I was typical.

I climbed up the dirt road of my village (_or the Rebel's camp, as it's called by the rest of the population_, supplied my mind ever so helpfully) and headed to the woods that bordered it on the north. Within minutes, I reached my special place. _Corny, I know, again._ It's just a little clearing with a fallen tree, encircled with bushes that give me a feeling of privacy and comfort. I always go there when I want some calm to sort through my thoughts. I sat on the ground, my back resting on the tree trunk, my knees pulled up to my chest.

_I hate fighting with Padfoot, _was the first one that came to my mind as I'm staring mulishly at the patch of leaves in front of me.

"Why does it have to be me?" is my most frequent complaint in life. I'm not blind to my faults or to my insecurities. Well, with hindsight, I always know what I did wrong and end up regretting it, but when I'm in the moment, I can't help but to be the typical Gryffindor (I like to think I would have been in that house had I gone to Hogwarts) and blurt everything that passes through my mind and go right ahead with whatever idea I came up with on the spot. _Strong and courageous? Pff!_ I scoffed at the notion. _More like, brash and thoughtless, you mean?_

I fell back to silence in my mind, before something Sirius said came back to my mind. "I am behaving like a teenager because of what happened at the last Victory Day celebration?"

* * *

3rd of April, 1995

It was the first time I saw the Dark Lord since I was eight. Everything was strikingly similar to that day six years ago, except that I went there alone and was, obviously, standing on my own. But, somehow, even without being placed above the crowd, He still managed to see me.

The cloudless sky was once again blue, the sun shining on the event like a benediction from the gods above. Rumour has it that He has discovered ancient farming charms used by rural communities of wizards during the Middle Ages to decide the weather at will and that he puts in charge a group of those new druids every year to make sure that his Victory Day is not marred by bad weather. In any case, it seemed to be working.

I had stood there for about an hour, looking at the acrobats, clowns and other crowd entertainers, when the music changed to something more solemn and His opened carriage appeared before me. He sat there for a moment, unmoving, looking straight in front of him in a noble posture of confidence and power before he had a benevolent smile and looked down at his people. His every movement were calculated. He was calm and collected. I looked at his poise and I realised that he was the exact opposite of me.

I was agitated and nervous at the sight on my "greatest enemy". I was tapping my foot on the ground and I started sweating when I thought of this glance turning in my direction like last time, of his calculating look judging me and finding me lacking.

At his side, like last time, stood Lucius Malefoy, illustrious Minister of Magic for the past ten years. His second-in-command and delegate in the government, in a way. Everybody knew that the Dark Lord was pulling whatever threads he found interesting in the Ministry. Recently, it became obvious that Voldemort would not be satisfied with just Wizarding Britain.

Progressively, as His control of Britain became near absolute, he had started to detach himself from day-to-day politics and retreat in his fortress to conduct his research on ancient magic, on further protecting the magical world from the Muggle one and on the bettering of certain structures of society. Or so they say. He could be lounging in bed all day, patting himself in the back for a job well done and indulging in his secret passion for Muggle ballet, for all we knew, really.

I don't know much about his positive changes, to be honest. In the Rebel's camp, the news is scarce, like the money, and it's carefully filtered before it reaches my ears. How they thought I wouldn't notice their little strategy is beyond me. When every single piece of information I ever received about the outside is deliberately twisted to present its worse aspects, it becomes quite obvious. Because really, when a new law passes to make sure that Muggleborns are not abused by their new magical parents and it's presented to you like "That monster is not happy with just tearing them from their real loving family, he continues his abusive control in the next by telling them how to raise their child"...well, let's just say that you have start having doubts that it's really all there is to it.

Still, I think the Rebels mean well. After all, if I'm completely convinced of how awful this "new" regime is, instead of having a realistic portrait of a balance of positive and negative aspects that I have to put in perspective and compare with my own values, well, it might be easier for me to see my Task as some type of divine providence and to...do it without remorse.

At that moment, I got out of my deep thoughts to see the handsome Dark Lord (did I really just think that?) reach a podium. He stood up and gracefully climbed up the stage.

_He's doing a speech? I don't remember that from last time..._

He walked to the front, taking the time to swipe the crowd of his glance before he would start to talk. I stood there, frozen, half-hoping that He would notice me like when I was eight, and half-dreading it (after all, I wasn't supposed to hope for the attention of my "nemesis").

_It's exposure_, I thought_. I should have stayed at home. He's a legilimens, who knows what he got from my unprotected mind last time he saw me_.

My stomach started churning uncomfortably.

_Maybe he'll recognise me?_

I berate myself in my mind.

_It sounds too much like I would like it to happen. Come on, I was what, eight years old? I changed a lot since then! He sees thousands of people at this procession every year, it's been years ago, why would He... _

My thoughts stopped and my heart started pounding in my ears. Time suspended as once again, He held my glance for a few seconds. Ruby-red eyes, so deep, so intelligent and cunning. I felt my eyes widen and heard my gasp, like last time. Then, I saw a flash of something (surprise? recognition? I don't know!) pass in his eyes before he turned away and started his speech...

He lifted his hands, silently asking the attention of the adulating crowd. He got it instantly. Even the baby crying at the left stood there, eyes wide open, waiting to see what would happen. The silence was absolute and everybody was waiting with bated breath to see what would happen. His lips parted slowly and stretched for a short moment in what looked like a genuine smile. I felt a shock of arousal running through me and saw many people shiver at the intensity of the moment. _What is wrong with me?_ I asked myself silently. _This is your enemy, for Merlin's sake! What now, he'll just have to drop his shirt off at the beginning of our epic final battle and I'll just stand there letting him kill me?_

"My dear citizens of the Wizarding World, this is the tenth time now that we celebrate my Victory Day together and I see some faces in the crowd that have been here with me for each one of them. I can even recognise some who were but infants at my first speech and who are standing here proudly on their own feet today. "

The Dark Lord's voice was smooth and velvety, deep and soothing. It transported you wherever it wanted you, made you feel alternatively the warmth of an embrace and the caressing breeze of a fresh spring day. It was pitched so that everybody in the crowd could hear it perfectly, but would still bend forward a bit to try to catch more of it. After pausing a moment to watch his crowd, he smiled to himself again, making a part of the crowd sigh, and returned to his speech.

"Such devotion and loyalty are hard to come by those days, and I thank you deeply for your presence here. It brings me great joy to see you all so happy and satisfied with the changes I have implemented for the growth of the Wizarding World. And when I speak of the good of the Wizarding World, I mean that I always try my best to find the options that would be beneficial to each one of you: from the humble witches and wizards to the hard-working Goblins, from the Werewolves and Vampires who were discriminated and dishonoured by the previous regime, to the abused Muggleborns and Half-bloods who were stuck in the Muggle World without knowing who they were or what they could do.

As you can all imagine, I'm sure, negotiating with so many diverse groups wasn't always easy and even today, we still have much progress to do before Minister Malefoy and I are really satisfied. But we can take pride in that, in great part thanks to your devoted support and unwavering loyalty, we have come this far and made life easier and happier for so many of our citizens.

My dearest wish for the future is for our children, some of which I've seen grow with my speeches every year. My wish is for them to never have to live the harshness of wars like we did. Let us work together, my friends, to preserve these happy days and to offer them a bright and peaceful future!"

His voice, which had become progressively louder and stronger toward the end of his speech, reached an exultant note on its last word and the crowd exploded in exclamations of joy and in fervent applause. Confetti rained down everywhere and balloons were set free to begin their ascension to the skies. I stood there, transfixed, unable to process what was happening around me. I wanted to turn around and see the reactions of the crowd, but, at the same time, I couldn't detach my eyes from the Dark Lord's face. This? This man was my enemy? This charismatic, beloved leader? This wizard so powerful that he drew the attention of every single person around him? _How could Sirius think that I'd have even a remote chance against Him? The whole idea of me being His equal is preposterous! In fifty years, maybe then, I'd manage to give Him a nosebleed in a duel, if I was lucky!_ I scoffed at the idea. Now, that sounded more realistic. I drank in the scene. The Dark Lord was standing tall at the front of the stage, a content smile on his lips, his face lit up as if he was living for this precise moment; the crowd's buoyant energy wouldn't dim down, its people wouldn't stop cheering, applauding, whistling and clapping. In the middle of this tumult, his eyes found mine again and his smile widened to one of triumph...

* * *

10th of August, the Rebel's camp

I came back to my clearing, still thinking of that look. Was I a traitor if admitted to myself that I really wanted Him to look at me? If I thought that not every decision he's taken or every law he's passed since he was in power was a bad one? If I thought that he wasn't such a bad leader?

"I'm just being nuanced", I chided.

"_And were you being nuanced as well when you were enthralled by his good looks?_

-Now, Subconscious, you're not funny anymore. I wasn't 'enthralled', I just... appreciate beauty where I can see it. There. Anyway, you know, I'm just being a normal hormonal teenager for once, you should be happy, really.

-_I suppose it is a clear amelioration from your usual depressed and borderline suicidal thoughts_", replied my subconscious in a snarky tone. "_But, whilst we are at it, by the way, aren't worried about the fact that you're having a discussion with yourself?_

-I'm sure everybody does that. They just deny it when asked because they are too embarrassed. Anyway, this discussion is closed now."

I nodded to myself to reinforce the thought. How ridiculous could that be? I wasn't "enthralled". I knew what this was. Sirius always says that, in the Wizarding World, so much depends on the magical strength and ability of its population that we tend to admire powerful wizards and witches and to look up to them for guidance. That's one of the reasons why there are no revolts or protests (apart from ours). They are not really satisfied; they are just lured by the false sense of security provided by a strong leader. Just like I am, apparently. Thank you, Sirius, for providing me this excellent and reassuring justification.

Only, well, maybe our instincts are linked with our magic and our magic pushes us to align ourselves with powerful people to survive? And then, the current order would be, in fact, pre-ordained by Magic herself? But wouldn't all governments be pre-ordained then?

I shook my head, trying to get rid of these useless questions. _Why do I doubt everything the Rebels say? Weren't they my family? Shouldn't I be happy to be protected and trained by them until I'm ready to face the outside world? Why did I itch so badly for adventures outside of these wards?_ I felt that, with all this practice and training, and without any real experience in fighting, I had no idea of my skills. That's why I wasn't confident in my ability. The Rebel camp is composed of about 50 people, and, among them, 35 are at least fifteen years older than me and had experience in the war. It's normal that I have trouble beating them in a duel...

_Maybe I should just...leave. Go out there. Now._ The wards were pretty close to here, I could feel them pulsing around me. _Since I'm keyed to them, I should be able to go out and come in again before anybody notices that I'm gone. It's not like I'm not ready. _Ever since I arrived to this camp, some ten years ago, they have prepared me for an emergency escape. "Don't worry about anyone else but you and run! You're the most important here. If you survive, the rebellion can go on," they said. Well, so much for encouraging my sense of loyalty, modesty and courage. They also gave me a backpack with all the necessities needed to survive in the wild for about a week. I should be fine for my little expedition of a couple of hours, then, no?

"No!" shouted the good boy in me. _Well, little angel, if I always listen to you, I'll never become stronger, I'll never accomplish anything and I'll never grow up._ It's like Tonks' mother said when she became an Auror and a spy for us: "let her do what she wants, and make her own mistakes. That's the only way for her to find out who she is and what she is made of." And Tonks was quite happy then. Sure, she nearly got caught three times coming here, and then she nearly killed us all by being followed once and now she never comes by anymore and we suspect that she's dead or imprisoned, but hey, she was happy while it lasted. And she grew up quite fast.

Ok, that might not have been the best example out there.

Anyway, I'm going. And I'll be very careful and keep my invisibility cloak on all the time I'm gone. Where will I go? Hum...Diagon Alley! That should do. I'll just go look around, it's not like I'd be searching for trouble or anything. Yes, it's decided, I'm going "normal people watching" today. What could possibly go wrong with such a safe plan?

* * *

Voilà! I hoped you liked the yummy Dark Lord, hehe!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! I was working at a tricky transition part in the story a couple of chapters ahead, and you guys motivated me to keep working on it until I got it right. :)

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Chapter 5: 10th of August 1995, Part 2, Diagon Alley

Before leaving for Diagon Alley, I went back to the village under my Invisibility Cloak to make sure that nobody (read, Sirius) would come and try to find me any time soon.

I was starting to get a bit nervous. I had never disobeyed like that. It could be pretty risky for me. I really didn't want to disappoint them either. They were like my family, after all. I gave myself a chance to back out of this foolish plan if I saw any sign that they would come to check on me soon.

They looked like they were in a meeting. I didn't dare approach too much because Moody could see under the Cloak, but I could hear the shouts of indignation from where I stood. It surprised me because I had always thought that every decision taken in the village was unanimous.

From what I could hear, the opinions were pretty divided and the ones who were protesting were doing so pretty vehemently.

_I wonder about what this meeting could be..._I was starting to approach again when I suddenly spotted Neville sitting there in silence, looking miserable and conflicted, overwhelmed.

_He's my age! Why am I not there with them! I should be there! They keep telling me that I'm their Chosen One, and then they exclude me from every decision! I bet they are talking about something that concerns me right now, and I'm standing there, looking at them, and I can't say anything. Screw this, I'm going!_

I stormed away from the village for a second time today, this time determined to leave this place, to take a break from the constant anger and frustration of its inhabitants. I would go, and relax among normal people. I might even take off my Cloak if I felt enough at would serve Sirius and the rest of them right if I was to go and stroll around Diagon Alley in broad daylight without anything happening to me.

I looked down at my clothes. They weren't torn, but they still looked pretty shabby. I took out my wand and transfigured them into something that looked a bit more normal.

In theory, we could always transfigure our clothes to make them seem like they were princely, but it wouldn't last long enough to make it worth the effort. And it would be pretty tiring as well, because you have to keep feeding the flow of magic to maintain the transfiguration. Nobody is that shallow here to use his or her magic for something so useless.

With that done and the Cloak tightly wrapped around me, I took a deep breath, looked at the curtain of faint blue light that has protected me for the past ten years, and crossed it.

Outside of the wards, unsurprisingly, stood the rest of the woods.

_Great, now, let's try long-distance apparition for the first time in my life!_

Moody had taught me apparition about a year ago. On that respect, I was more advanced than my age group. They had to take a test and get a license to be allowed to apparate, I didn't. Ah, the perks of being a Rebel (not that they are that many of them).

I had never tried to apparate outside of our wards and without supervision, though. It was more a "in case of emergency, you will have this card up his sleeve, if you need it".

I felt a bit guilty to take advantage of what they had taught me to actively disobey them. _But hey, I have the Marauder genes; I'm supposed to do stuff like that, no?_

This inner conflict settled, I pivoted on my right foot and disappeared with a crack.

I landed on the dirty alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron and hurriedly tapped the right stones to make the passageway open before anybody came to greet the new arrival.

When the stones closed behind me, I let out a sigh of relief. I looked around.

Diagon Alley was thriving. All the shops were open, the streets were crowded (but not enough that I would have trouble manoeuvring under my Cloak), and everybody looked happy. There was an air of prosperity floating around that delighted me. I sighed again, this time, of contentment. _At last, no more drama._

I started to walk along the Alley, observing the people, the merchandise, listening to conversations. One in particular caught my attention.

"Yes, Ma'am! All the lavender used for my perfume comes directly from the Provence, in France!" said one seller at a cosmetic boutique.

"Really? Ah, not ten years ago our trade agreements with France wouldn't have allowed you to sell it for this cheap, that's for sure!" exclaimed an elegant blond woman.

"Well, Mrs. Parkinson, what can I say, our Lord and Minister Malfoy sure did a good job with the trade negotiations!"

I was shocked. I had never heard anything remotely positive about the Dark Lord's regime in all my life before now and, while I had had doubts that everything was as black and white as the Rebels had told me, to hear my suspicions so easily confirmed after not five minutes in the outside world made me wonder why I didn't get out of the village before now. _Surely, my perception of the world can't be that screwed!_

I continued my way until I saw a newsstand.

_People there are going to discuss about what's happening_, I thought.

And discussed, they did.

I was shocked (Again!) to hear about everything that was going on without my knowledge: education reforms, anti-corruption laws, systematisation of oaths of loyalty for Ministry workers, loans to make Wolfsbane accessible to all werewolves (I could certainly understand now why Remus had left the Rebels if that sort of laws were commonplace here) and loans and grants for new businesses, the construction of a massive magical public library in Edinburgh that would help rejuvenate its ancient magical marketplace... and it went on, and on, and on.

Not everything was positive though. My critical mind was always searching for downsides to every new regulation and law and, if innovation was always presented in a bad light in my village, for these newspapers, every change was a good one. No one so much as hinted that they might not be completely happy with the new order. To me, this was as shady as what's going on in my village.

_They don't look oppressed though, not from what I can see in such a short time._

I left the newsstand, more confused than ever.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed a box lying on the ground and I tripped over it, losing my balance and nearly falling down. I hopped around for a bit, swearing a bit and nearly colliding with a man, who looked around suspiciously with a hand on his purse. When I was stable again, I hurried over to the side of the Alley, leaning on a building to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.

I was adjusting the Cloak around me again, making sure that I was completely covered, when I saw the building in front of me. It was a gigantic joke shop with a massive WWW on its façade. In the windows were lots of animated toys and tools for pranks in flashy colours.

Unable to resist the lure of this shop, I approached cautiously. In the display, a fleshy-coloured ear caught my eye. It was, supposedly, a tool for spying. I thought of the meetings to which I couldn't attend in the village and felt a bit of my former anger return. I resolved to go check the merchandise inside the shop. Since it was summer, the doors were open to let the breeze enter. I took it as an invitation and stepped inside.

The minute I passed the porch, I saw a spell heading my way. My training kicked in and I crouched down just in time for the spell to pass above my head. I shuffled inside the shop and to the side of the entrance, trying to evaluate the situation. _Am I being attacked? Was I spotted earlier when I tripped? Is this an ambush? A trap? Do they know it's me?_

A pair of red-haired twins in expansive tailors came rushing to the door.

"Gred?" said the one on the left.

"Yes, Forge?

-Do you think we scared the customer away? I can't see anyone.

-That would be the first time someone just left without even shouting at us for trying to prank them..."

The one named Forge stepped outside the shop and looked at the crowd passing by. He said:

"Well, I don't see anybody with purple hair and giant ears walking outside so...

-They could have dodged it", interrupted his twin.

"Gred, they would have to be incredibly agile to dodge that...

-Do you think...

-That they were...

-In fact...

-Highly trained spies infiltrating our shop to make sure we don't say anything nasty against U-No-Poo?

-Highly trained spies sent by our competition infiltrating our shop to steal our ideas and sell them cheaper?

-Highly trained spies sent by the Rebels because they heard that we said nasty stuff about Moldy Pants and find us so awesome that they want to recruit us?"

The twins looked at each other for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.

"Moldy Pants! Where did you take that! It's brilliant, Gred!

-Not as much as U-No-Poo, Forge. That, brother of mine, was pure genius. Do you think we could sell a medicine against constipation and put that phrase on a giant poster?

-What's the worse they could do about it? In his last speech, the Dark Lord said that liberty of expression is a right and that there should be no censorship. If he makes us take it down, it would make him look bad."

They both simultaneously brought their hand up and started caressing the non-existent beard on their chin. They started snickering at the same time and said:

"Let's just fix that trap before the next customer arrives."

I exhaled slowly in relief and stood back up, looking around. After a quick tour of the shop, I concluded that the most useful gadget for me would be the Extendable Ears. They would allow me to listen to meetings when I, theoretically, would be out of range. _And if I could take a bit of the invisible paint, nobody but Moody would be able to spot them..._

I looked at the price. 2 Galleons. I thought of my emergency money tucked in the backpack. I didn't know how much there was, but my stomach churned uncomfortably at the idea of using all that money for my own selfish plans to spy on the meetings when I was supposed to use it for survival.

I crouched down, took my backpack off and opened it in front of the display. Rummaging around, I found the purse tapped to a corner at the bottom of the bag. I counted the money. 1 Galleon, two Sickles. It really wasn't much. _How do they expect me to survive on my own with so few? I could barely stay more than a week at the seediest hotel, food included, with that. _

I sighed. I shouldn't be that ungrateful, really. It's more than we can afford to spare at the camp. There are even some nights when we have to go to bed without a meal, and here I am, complaining that they didn't leave me enough to buy a tool to spy on them.

Ideally, I would just take the Ears, and leave the money to pay for them on the display. It wouldn't be stealing then. The twins would just find the money, check their inventory, realise that somebody took the Ears, but paid for them and they would be satisfied. Voilà, perfect.

Except that I didn't have the money.

I looked at the Ears longingly.

_I could just put them in my backpack and leave and they'd probably never notice. Look at them, with their crocodile-skin suits or something. They have probably rolled in money all their lives. I would be like Robin Hood if I stole from them _(It was one of Sirius' favourite muggle story to read me when I was young_)._

_ Except that Robin Hood didn't keep the money for himself... But anyway, it wouldn't be just for me, it's also for my Task. These two don't look like they love the Dark Lord's rule that much. They'd probably sponsor me if they knew who I was._

I looked towards the back of the shop. The twins had disappeared in the back and I could hear some stuff being moved around in there. I was alone.

Guilt washed over me. _Should I?_ I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, paralysed by my indecision. _If I take them, I'm a thief. I can't say that my actions are morally irreprehensible anymore. I did something bad. I'll probably feel guilty for it for the rest of my life._

The Ears were just resting on the counter-top and I imagined them grinning at me, daring me to pick them up.

_Gred and Forge probably have some anti-thief spell on everything here. They wouldn't risk leaving their shop unattended if they hadn't._ _Yes, that's it, I'm not going to take them; it's too risky. _

I withdrew the hand that had traitorously edged towards the Ears while I was debating with myself.

_Good, now, just get out of here_.

I got up, taking my bag with me.

I was about to leave when suddenly, I heard some commotion in the Alley.

First, a sound like thunder resonated in the streets, then, shouts and the sound of glass being broken.

Above the terrified screams, I heard a man shouting:

"The Rebels! It's them! Somebody call the Aurors!"

I froze.

_What? They are doing a raid here? But they never attack the general population usually! Just precise targets in the Dark Lord's administration. What's going on? Have they found out that I was gone and followed my trace to here? _

At the corner of my eye, I could see the twins rushing in the Alley, leaving their shop empty.

In a flash, I made a spur of the moment decision and grabbed the Ears.

_I need them._ _I'll repay the twins when I have the money, I promise_.

I stuffed them in my bag and headed outside in the commotion.

* * *

Ouhhh, what's going to happen? Please write me a little line if you like the story, it would really make my day. :)

Thank you in advance!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It's so appreciated and it really motivates me to continue this story! And I absolutely love to see people who review repeatedly because I feel like I'm getting to know you, chapter by chapter. So, please keep it up! :)

FanFictionLover: I couldn't reply directly to you because you were a guest reviewer, but I would like to say that I agree with you. I think that Reader-anonymous-writer also put a finger on some of the main themes of this story: that nothing is ever black and white and that History is written by the victors.

Concerning the relationship between Harry and Voldemort, I won't be spoiling anything here, but you will find that it won't be as clear cut as "Harry becomes Dark or stays Light". Harry wants to hold on to his morals, but his world is crumbling around him. We just saw in the last chapter that he isn't incorruptible or inflexible in his decisions: Stealing is bad, but is stealing for a good cause justified? Does it make you a bad person if you are compelled by external forces to commit crimes?

A lot of fanfiction writers here made great fics where Dumbledore is this completely evil person who manipulated everyone around him. In a way, I partly agree with them that he's a manipulator who kept his cards too close to his chest, but is the idea of the Greater Good such an evil one? If you have the choice between sacrificing one person to save the lives of thousands of them, won't you do it? Even if it's incredibly unfair for that one person?

Anyway, I'll leave you to it because I don't think you wanted to start a big philosophical debate, but I'm essentially agreeing to what you said. And thank you for reviewing ^^

* * *

Chapter 6: 10th of August 1995, Part 3, The Attack

I rushed out of the twins' shop, feeling guilty and panicked at the same time. _What was I thinking, stealing the Ears like that? Sirius would be so disappointed in..._

My thoughts stopped abruptly and my feet halted as I took in the scene. About twenty people were running around, shooting spells on the shops and generally wreaking havoc in Diagon Alley.

The customers who had been so happy just strolling about minutes before were now attempting to flee the Alley, screaming and crying, some of them holding their children close to their chests to protect them.

The light of the spells made me squint while my brain was still trying to catch up with what was happening.

_That can't be the Rebels. They wouldn't attack innocents like that. I recognise Emmeline Vance from here, but she must be polyjuiced. It can't be her, demolishing the façade of the book store. I remember when I was younger and she used to read me stories. She said she couldn't have children because of a nasty curse a Death Eater sent her in the war, but that she saw me a bit like a son...And the two there, breaking in the Apothecary? Aren't they Sturgis Podmore and Hestia Jones? Hestia had always been so nice to me. She went out with Sirius for a while and, in that time, I felt like I was part of a real, normal family. I remember asking her if she wanted to be my mom and she had cried, hugging me tightly._

Another window shattered, its shards raining down on the Alley.

_This is dangerous for the bystanders, why are they doing that? _I thought, still not completely understanding.

_It's useless, pointless, dangerous destruction, why are they doing that?_

I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw a blasting curse rebound on a protected window and head toward a child close to me.

The boy had his head bent and faced the opposite way; he would never see the curse coming.

Without thinking, the reflexes kicked in, my wand was suddenly in my hand and I shouted _Protego!_ The curse evaporated on my shield.

The child's mother looked around, trying to see who had attacked or who had protected them, but I was still under my Cloak.

I was suddenly shaking with fury.

_How dare they attack a populated area without even protecting the innocents! How dare they represent us like dangerous and careless vandals? Where is the noble ideal with which I grew up?! _

The Rebels were controlling the only close exit point (the stones leading to the Leaky Cauldron) to prevent people from disapparating and I could feel that the Alley's wards had been reinforced with layers of our (of their?) own. They were not actively attacking the population, but anyone who came up to try to stop them were dueled to submission. And nobody could flee.

I watched in silent horror as a slicing hex severed a man's wand hand.

The man, who looked around forty years old, had attempted to prevent the Rebels from entering in the wand shop.

Wands were an expansive and rare commodity. In the hands of a Rebellion, it could mean the difference between success and failure of an operation. I could understand the move from a strategic point of view. But my heart was twisting and my stomach was quivering with nausea as I watched a river of blood gushing out of the fresh stump.

Was such violence really necessary? Couldn't they have dealt with it less violently? Like with a little Stupefy or a good old Petrificus Totalus?

_No, because then it would have been too easy to cancel_, supplied my mind. _Anyway, who are you to talk; you use worse spells when you train!_

Sure, I'd practiced the slicing hex several times and used it frequently in practice duels, but I don't think I realised the effect of all these spells I was mastering until now.

_How am I supposed to kill the Dark Lord if I want to vomit every time one of my spells touches him?_

I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts. Now was not the time. The man would be fine if he went to St-Mungo's within the next hour. I had other people to help.

I looked around quickly, not knowing where to start.

_Think strategically. You can't fight the Rebels. They'd recognise you and then you'd be in even deeper shit. That's the Aurors' job... Shouldn't they be there already?_

I tightened my fists in frustration, unable to think properly in the face of such destruction.

A rebel wizard that I didn't recognise shot an _Incendio_ at the cosmetics shop. Thankfully, it rebounded on the shop's wards.

_Ah, the wards! Of course! That's how they trapped us here! I have to take them down!_

I turned my attention to the wards, calming my breath like the Rebels had taught me years ago.

Feeling the ambient magic is an ability that can be taught to most magical children if one starts their training soon enough and keeps up with it all their life. Like I did, or like I was forced to do.

_Thank you, dear family, for teaching me how to stop you today_.

I looked up to the sky, at the dome that was encircling the Alley, imprisoning the population.

Combining wards was a tricky business, one that I didn't know so well. But I knew that the more wards you pile up on top of each other, the more unstable they became. And usually, you could either put the focus of the wards on keeping people from leaving, or on preventing others from entering somewhere.

Depending on which is your focus, your ward is going to be weaker from the inside or the outside. In this case, the holder of the wards was clearly focusing on preventing the Aurors and any type of outside help to enter the Alley. Which meant that I, being inside, would have an easier job.

I detailed the ward work in front of me, determining the effect of each layer.

Ah, they put the ward against physical intrusion too close to the anti-porkey one. Their difference in nature made the layer weaker.

I gripped my wand tighter and started chanting under my breath; using for the first time in a real-life situation the spells they taught me in prevision for an eventual invasion of Voldemort's fortress.

Disabling wards was a bit like pulling on an elastic surface until it broke. The first hole was the most difficult, but after that, the layer would come off pretty easily.

I started to sweat under the effort.

_Merlin, those wards are tough! Who's the holder? Moody?_

A cold shiver took over me when I thought of having to explain to Moody why I went against him.

_There, there, there!_ The physical intrusion ward collapsed and I fell to the ground, exhausted.

_Ah, take that, bastard! ...or more like...take that, man or woman who I love like an uncle or an aunt..._

I pulled myself up a bit to look around and crawled to the side of the street to prevent being trampled under my Cloak.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then, I saw a large fleet enter my range of vision from above the shops and land in the middle of the Alley. They were wearing red robes.

_The cavalry arrived_! I thought, a bit hysterically.

Among the group was an unmistakable bubble-gum pinked-haired witch.

_Tonks! She's alive and well! I thought she had been captured! I can't wait to tell Sirius, he'll be so relieved! Oh, wait, I can't tell him, obviously, but maybe the others will._

I turned my head to see what the Rebels were doing now.

When they saw the Aurors, they demolished the rest of their wards and hurried away with portkeys, bringing as much of what they had stolen as they could.

Disappointment and disapproval took hold of me.

_Was this how we managed to survive for so long without having jobs? I don't know how why I didn't even think of asking them where the money came from._ _I thought they had Muggle jobs..._

I thought of the Ears in my backpack. _Is this how it started for them as well?_

I let my head drop on the façade of the shop behind me and it landed with a resonating "thuck".

_Well, hey, what do you know, I survived my first battle outside of my village's wards. And it was against the people I loved._

I snorted in derision.

_Well, better head back, then, they'll probably need some help with the wounded..._

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, Lucius Malfoy, Minister of Magic, and Bartemius Crouch Jr., Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, were standing in the Alley, noting the scale of the damage and receiving reports from the Aurors who had been present for the fight.

"You tell me that you have absolutely no idea of how the wards collapsed?" asked Crouch in an incredulous voice.

"Yes, sir, really, we were trying to work on it from the outside, but our ward-breakers hadn't arrived yet and the wards were facing outwards so..." confirmed the nervous Auror. How he got drafted to be the one reporting to Crouch, he didn't know, but he'd make the others pay! Nobody wanted to give Crouch bad news; it could ruin your whole career if you did! _My wife will kill me if I get demoted!_

"So, it was someone from inside of the wards, obviously. Have you conducted the interrogations already?" asked the cool and collected Minister.

The Auror exhaled in relief. If the Minister took over the investigation, at least Malfoy would keep his calm and everything would be over swiftly. He might even still have his job at the end of today!

"Yes, Minister, we did, and nobody has done anything to the wards. However, three people reported some strange instances that happened shortly before or while the attack, though. The first two are the Weasley twins who own the new joke shop.

They say that the prank trap they had set in front of their shop activated without anybody entering.

At the time, they thought that the mechanism was malfunctioning, but it does match with a third witness who said that, during the battle, a rebounded curse nearly hit her son but that, before she could do anything to save him, she heard a male voice shouting a shield spell and the curse was absorbed.

She said that she looked around to thank her son's protector, but that she didn't see anybody."

" And you said the episode with the Weasley twins was before the Rebels arrived...So, presumably, there was someone disillusioned in the Alley today, who might not have anything to do with them." suggested Malefoy.

"Or, at least, if they had ties with the Rebels, they didn't join in the fun so, perhaps it could be some sort of vigilante who heard that they were going to attack and decided to protect the population and help the Aurors." put forward Crouch.

"If they were a vigilante, as you suggest, Crouch, why wouldn't they prevent the Aurors beforehand or take a more active part in defeating the Rebels?" challenged the Minister, lifting an elegant blond eyebrow. "In any case, Auror, your investigation is not over yet. I suggest interrogating the witnesses again and asking more precise questions about anything that could be linked with a disillusioned man walking around the Alley prior to the attack. I want this case closed by tomorrow and you won't rest before it's done. Understood?"

"Yes, of course Minister, right away Minister," replied the poor Auror while bowing repeatedly and stepping backwards to get away from the two powerful men as fast as he could.

Crouch watched him go and said, turning to Malfoy:

"You realise He'll want to know about this, right?

-Ah, yes, I know," sighed the Minister. "But he doesn't take the Rebels very seriously, I'm afraid. He's practically forbid me from taking decisive actions against them, but he won't tell me why...

-The Dark Lord doesn't have to explain his motivations to us, Malfoy. I think that all those years in power made you forget your place. Perhaps on the next election in two years time, you will have some interesting competition, for once..." said Crouch a bit nastily. "I'll leave the privilege of informing our Lord of the present situation to you this time, _Minister_. I wish you luck."

Lucius now stood alone in Diagon Alley, watching Barty walk away, whistling.

_This will be an interesting discussion, that's for sure. I wonder if his Crucios have lost some of their force since the end of the war. _

In a flash, he remembered an evening, years ago, when the Dark Lord had felt bored and had asked him and Severus to attack him simultaneously.

He winced internally when he thought of the injuries he sustained because of that duel.

_No, they'll probably hurt as much..._

* * *

Next chapter will be a discussion between Harry and Sirius that will have serious repercussions!

To the ones asking for more LV's POV, there'll be a longgg one in chapter 8 (So in two chappies).

Thank you for reviewing!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers! I really appreciate your comments! Keep it up! I love you guys!

Some of you pointed out that I'd written Malfoy 'Malefoy' a couple of times in the last chapters. I apologise for that mistake, it's the French version of the name and the first I've known, so I guess it stayed stuck in my head somewhere. Rest assured, dear readers, I won't do it again.

I don't have a beta so, despite all the effort I spend on revising, I'm bound to make mistakes occasionally (or frequently :P).

Enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter 7: 10th of August 1995, Part 4: Lies and Treachery

I apparated back to the edge of the wards and fell to the ground noisily.

I stayed there for a second, bone-tired and soul-weary. My eyes were shutting against my will.

_I can't fall asleep there, they'll know I was out, come on and get up, you lazy mess!_ I still couldn't get myself to move. _If you get up, I'll go take a long and warm shower and then, I'll go take a nap._

My body twitched, suddenly interested in what I was suggesting. I took a deep breath and slowly extracted my arms from under me. This difficult task completed, I pulled slowly myself up on my knees, shaking under the effort needed.

_Shit! I used too much magic to take down those wards!_

My head was spinning, my vision swimming. I squinted at the wards a few feet away from me.

_I can do it! Come on, crawl if you want, but you're going back in there!_

I took another steadying breath and inched my way to the wards, my whole body hurting.

_Well, at least I didn't try that trick for the first time when trying to invade the Dark Lord's place. That wouldn't have been funny._

I let out a short laugh and pushed myself forward, rolling on the ground and crossing the curtain of blue light. Then, I crawled back to my clearing and let myself fall on the ground, completely exhausted. I barely managed to extract myself from my Invisibility Cloak and to clumsily put it back in my emergency bag before giving in the temptation and closing my eyes for a few seconds.

.

When I woke up, it was dark outside.

_Shit, shit, shit! Sirius will be furious!_

I sat up quickly, looking around and wondering what I was doing outside. My stomach was grumbling painfully, and I tried to think of the last time I'd eaten.

That's when I remembered what happened today.

I purposely sabotaged their raid; I went against the people I consider like my family because I believed that what they were doing was wrong and because, if I hadn't, I would have been like those people in the last war that stayed 'neutral' and allowed their world to crumble around them without lifting a finger to help those in need.

Sirius hates neutral parties; he always says that you have to fight for your convictions and assume responsibility, even if it means going against your family. When he told me that, he was talking of the Blacks and their love of dark magic. I never thought I'd use his advice and moral code to put myself against him, though.

I felt as if someone had stabbed me in the heart.

_Am I really against him, now? I didn't see him at the raid...maybe he didn't agree with it? Yes, that must be what happened! He wouldn't have wanted innocents implicated, I'm sure of that._

A wave of relief submerged me, before doubts assaulted me once again.

_And what of the rest of the Rebels? Am I against them? Maybe the raid didn't go as planned, maybe they just wanted to scare the bystanders a bit and got caught in the moment._

I've heard that, if you were in the middle of a large magical fight, and the magic permeated the air, you could sometimes lose track of who you were and just...live for the fight. That such a thing could happen to me scared me, but at the same, trying to imagine how I'd feel then, being transported by the magic... I was curious and a bit (just a bit, I swear!) excited by the prospect of living it one day. People didn't call this phenomenon "Magical ecstasy" for no reason, after all.

So...well...if that's what happened to the Rebels today, I'm not sure if I could condemn their actions because I might have done the same in a similar situation.

I nodded to myself, momentarily happy to have solved my dilemma.

_I'll just ask them if it ever happened to them and we'll see what they'll say. If they say no, then I'll re-adjust my conclusion._

I picked myself off the floor and walked tiredly back to the village. The lights were shut in every house except for mine.

_Oh no. Sirius waited up for me_.

I crept back inside the shaky building that has been my home for the past ten years, trying to do as little noise as possible. I didn't want to talk to Sirius before having a scolding hot shower, and possibly another nap.

The second I set foot inside the house, the candles in the hallway and the living room lit up and I spotted Sirius looking at me from his armchair at the back of the room.

I sighed tiredly and said:

"Can I at least go take a shower before we talk?"

He looked me over, probably trying to find where I was and what I was doing.

Seeing that I wasn't hurt in any way, his lips tightened in barely restrained anger and he waved me off without speaking, looking to the side.

Having garnered such a response from him hurt me a bit. I wasn't, despite my behaviour today, a very rebellious teenager. There were just moments when I couldn't stand Sirius and when my mind kept reminding me of all of his faults.

Usually, I couldn't stay mad at him for too long. My longest bout of anger against him so far had been when I was eleven and he didn't tell me about my Hogwarts letter, and then I was angry with him for at least a week.

His best tactic for making me talk to him again was to show me a cool new spell. Then, I wouldn't be able to contain my enthusiasm and I'd forget why I was mad.

But I'd never really given him any reasons to be angry with me. I always was a nice, obedient child, in part (at the beginning at least) because I was afraid of being sent back to the Dursleys'. My sojourn there hadn't last long, but it was enough to leave a deep imprint in my psyche.

Sirius never really had much patience when he was mad, so I settled for a quick lukewarm shower. I changed into my pyjamas and bounded back down the stairs.

He hadn't moved a muscle since I left him. I approached and sat on the sofa facing him, staring at my hands resting on my lap.

"Where were you?" said my godfather in a controlled voice.

"Napping." My answer came out more petulant than I had planned.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" His voice was incredulous.

"Well, if you really want the detail of my day, I'll tell you: I left the house, went in the woods, and let out my frustration on the poor trees. By the time I was done, I was exhausted; I lied down a bit to catch my breath and ended up falling asleep. I woke up about ten minutes ago and came back here immediately.

-You're not telling me everything." His eyes were scrutinising me.

"Ah yes, sorry, I forgot the hours of desperate crying and self-deprecation. I didn't think they'd matter to you," I said, accusingly.

He winced and looked at me with saddened eyes.

"Harry...don't be so pessimistic, please. You know we're not going to ask you to do anything before you feel ready for it, right? You still have plenty of time to train and become stronger.

-Sirius, I'm fifteen. He's what, a hundred years old? Be realistic, how could I possibly catch up to Him?

-You're doing very well, Prongslet! You even beat me more often than not when we duel nowadays.

-But you're not the Dark Lord! Nobody can compare to him. Gods, Sirius, you should have seen him at the last Victory Day. His magic, it was swirling all around him. It was intoxicating. Nobody could as much as look away from him when he was talking. How could I possibly rival with that one day?

-So I was right, then. You are behaving like that because you saw him recently. I knew it would just depress you to see him again... " He sighed. "I know the difference between you two looks pretty steep at the moment..."

I snorted.

"No, listen. I'm serious...

-And I'm Harry," I cut him off, using a lifelong joke between us. He quelled me with a pointed look.

"Harry. As I was saying, right now, your Task probably looks a bit daunting. But we're not asking you to attack him now either. We can hold out in here as long as you need.

-Are you just waiting for me then, all of you? The Rebels? Do they just exist to annoy Voldemort until I go against him?

-No! Why would you say that? We're there to train you, and that's part of our mission, but, first and foremost, we're fighting because we haven't abandoned the hope that one day, our society will be free again. We're fighting for what we believe is right, for our convictions.

Harry, the Dark Lord is a wicked man who reigns by controlling and oppressing his people. He forces them to obey his new laws because he gets off on seeing them cower at his feet. He relishes in the power he has over the population. And everybody let him do so because they are so relieved that he didn't decide to exterminate them or their family. But this isn't a good long-term strategy. Sooner or later, people are going to realise that he doesn't care about them at all and just wants to stay on his cushioned throne at the top of everything. And that's when they'll turn to us. We're there so that they know that there's another option.

I thought of the Dark Lord's face when he was showered with cheers and applause.

_Sirius is right: he gets off on it! He saw me look at him the same way, he recognised me and he saw his destined enemy in awe before him like the rest of them. That's why he looked so smug! Fucking bastard! We'll see if I let myself fall in the same trap again..._

"Hum, Harry, there something else I have to tell you, and I apologise in advance for the horrible timing, but this can't wait." He said, his voice grave.

I gave him my full-attention, already fearing what he was about to say.

"Harry... it's Tonks. She's dead." Dread flooded me.

"What? What do you mean..." _I saw her a few hours again and she was fine!_ I finished the thought in my head, panicking.

"Harry, some of us went out on a raid earlier and we were attacked by Aurors...

-Is everybody fine?" I interrupted to ask, genuinely worried. I hadn't seen anybody get hit by anything but I was focusing on the wards during most of the battle so I had to be sure.

"Everybody's fine, Harry, just a few scratches here and there, don't worry. But the Aurors, while we were fighting against them, they were taunting us, saying that they had caught our little spy...they said she was trialed and sentenced to death, Harry...she's dead now. I'm so sorry that you have to learn it like that, you know. We had our suspicions that she'd been caught, but until we had confirmation, we didn't want you to worry about it..."

Disbelief floored me. I felt my mouth drop open and my eyes widen while I looked at him incredulously.

_But, I saw her a few hours ago and she was fine; she was part of the Aurors! And the Rebels didn't even fight them; they just flew away the minute they arrived. _

_He...he's lying to me. He's lying to my face, looking me in the eyes with that sad look on his face and fucking lying to me about the death of his cousin! I can't believe it; I can't believe it!_

I had subconsciously started to shake my head back and forth. Sirius thought I had trouble accepting reality. He said:

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry." and engulfed me in a warm hug. I sat still, frozen at the edge of the sofa.

_How could Sirius lie to me like that? He can't be lying to me about something as serious as that, right? How am I supposed to believe anything he's ever said now? Has he lied to me about everything for the past ten years? I might as well go offer myself on a platter to the Dark Lord if it's the case..._

I started shaking and gasping. The tears welled up in my eyes. I was unbelievably angry with Sirius and wanted to push him off me and run upstairs, but, with everything that happened today, the comfort he offered me was sorely needed.

I relaxed in the warmth despite myself and cried away the anger, the frustration, the hurt, the betrayal, the guilt and the panic of today.

_How could he? How could he!_ I repeated to myself over and over, feebly.

Then I felt and heard Sirius crying against my shoulder, mourning the last member of the Black family about which he cared.

_No, Sirius wouldn't lie to me about something so important. He wears his heart on his sleeve; he couldn't go through with it. The other Rebels must have spun this tale._

Anger came back to me like an infuriated beast growling in my chest. I tightened my arms around my godfather.

_They have gone too far. I'm done making up excuses for their behaviour. They will pay for this lie and for the crimes they have committed against innocents today. I'll make sure of it._

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I hope you liked this chapter!

I know some of you will think "why doesn't he go join the Dark Lord already?!" But I think that Harry would have a lot of difficulty taking this decision, especially with the way he was brought up and given that he'd have to fight against Sirius. Also, at this point in the story, Harry is convinced that the Dark Lord will kill him the minute he sees him, so he won't just go and present his head on a platter to him. Don't worry, though, the two of them will get together at some point. I've planned it all, but you'll have to wait a bit before we reach that point, mouhahaha. :P

Next chapter will be a mix between a Lucius's POV and a Voldemort's POV.

Thank you in advance for reviewing!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! I love you guys! And to those who didn't well...I hope this chapter will make you change your mind!

I updated every day so far and I thought I'd give myself a little break for one day or two...but then I saw that I had hit the 50 reviews! Yayyyy! And I thought this deserved to be celebrated with a new chapter, whoouuuu!

You guys have an real impact on my posting speed, you know? I give myself modest review goals in my mind (and I don't tell them to you, mouhaha) and tell myself that I'll post when I reach them; I keep expecting it to happen in two or three days, and that's what happens! One chapter per day, nearly! But I love it, so don't stop!

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Chapter 8: The same night, 10th of August 1995: Part 5, Riddle Manor

_"Crucio!_" Lucius writhed on the floor, screaming in pain.

He kept feeding the spell, relishing in the seductive pleasure that this Unforgivable never failed to bring him and in the debasement of the annoying aristocrat.

"How dare you question my strength, Lucius? Have you found my "Crucio' satisfying enough for your high standards? Or perhaps I should reiterate the demonstration, what do you think? I can do it better, much more painful if you so desire, my friend..."

The Dark Lord's voice was low and soft, his tone a horrible parody of the obsequiousness with which most had addressed him for the past ten years.

Lucius cringed at the mocking words. He had deserved that 'Crucio'. He had, after all, speculated about the Dark Lord's strength (or potential lack thereof) and openly doubted his decisions in a very public and populated area, in broad daylight and without as much as a single anti-eavesdropping charm.

There was a time when he'd have been instantly dead for committing such an obvious mistake. It was in moments like those that he was happy to be so useful to the Dark Lord.

Of course, the latter could have appointed just any marionette for the post of Minister after his Victory and nobody would have as much as raised a voice in protest. However, Lucius was convinced that his already important presence in the political background of the years preceding the end of the war somehow eased the transition into the new regime. The élite, for instance, trusted him to defend their interests and not to do something as ridiculous as to impose a progressive tax on the revenue which would damage their fortune, and his own. The rest of the population knew of his illustrious descent and preferred to have "someone they knew" in power, as opposed to some unknown spineless sycophant. And he was doing a really good job, in all modesty.

For all his talk and high position in the Ministry, Crouch would never be a better Minister than he was.

So well...maybe he didn't fear enough for his life, but he'd come to know this sane version of his Lord well in the past thirteen years and had a lot of respect for His sense of cunning and Slytherin ambitious tactics. And killing Lucius now for some trivial mistake wasn't a politically sound move.

So he waited for his heart rate to lower marginally and his breathing to come back under his control and moved to a genuflection when he felt ready to face whatever was coming.

Which turned out to be...nothing at all.

He risked a glance at his Master's face, only to find him looking strangely puzzled by something. His brows were furrowed, his lips pursed and his eyes looking down and a bit to the right of where Lucius was kneeling. He had slowly brought his left hand to the side of his head, running it lightly through his long dark hair as he always did when he was thinking of something important.

Lucius personally thought that the Dark Lord was afraid of returning to his old snake looks and that his subconscious made him double-check (when it got the chance to do so without the conscious noticing) if he hadn't inadvertently lost all his hair.

Lucius resolved to wait it out. After all, his Master's most brilliant plans mostly came from such moments of deep reflection. The aristocrat wondered what it could be about, this time. The long-planned invasion of Ireland, perhaps?

.

As it turned out, Lucius was mostly wrong. The Dark Lord wasn't thinking about Ireland, or scheming, for that matter. Something was wrong with him.

A few minutes before, when he was contentedly looking at his servant lying in a heap on the floor, he had felt the most peculiar array of emotions assaulting him: indignation, dread, disbelief, an abnormal amount of sadness for him, relief, and it had ended in such a strong wave of anger that he nearly re-crucioed Lucius on the spot to scratch that peculiar itch.

There wasn't anything in what was happening in his life to justify such intense emotions. He was more even-tempered than he'd ever been, for Morgana's sake!

He pondered the question, turning his attention towards himself.

Sometimes, when he urged to do something particularly cruel or insane, he'd feel his diary Horcrux stir within himself, as if it was voicing its disagreement.

He explained it by the wide age and maturity gap present between him and his soul piece and had considered a few times reuniting with some of his other Horcruxes to smoothen the assimilation a bit, but he only had four Horcruxes left (_ring, locket, tiara and cup_, he internally recited to calm himself down) and five was an adequately powerful magical number.

Three would have been better, but he refused to make himself vulnerable by having only two Horcruxes. He was in a position of power, he had worked hard to get himself where he wanted and he wasn't about to give it up because one of his numerous enemies had at last managed to send him a well-aimed killing curse when his back was turned.

When he connected with his recalcitrant soul piece, he found it oddly dormant. What was the source of those feelings, then?

He felt around, searching for an anomaly and found a feeble link toward something or someone else.

What was it?

He probed it a bit, and diagnosed it as a connection between two living beings.

His soul was connected to another life and he'd never known. Why it chose to make itself known now, he didn't know either. He tried to follow the link to the other being, but he soon hit solid Occlumency shields. Hum, he needed to further investigate this strange connection. He looked at Lucius, who by now looked like he was considering taking a nap on the carpet. He just had to finish with the blond before he did anything else about the connection.

.

"Take a seat, Lucius."

He loved to surprise the aristocrat by granting him small privileges. It made him think he was respected and above the other Death Eaters. Which he was, in a way, as a member of his inner circle and his Minister. But, above all, he did it because it made Lucius infinitely more loyal and eager to please him.

"So, what were you saying before you had that regrettable moment of weakness, my dear friend?" Voldemort said, a hint of the previous mockery still present in his voice.

"My Lord, there was an incident in Diagon Alley today. Around twenty rebels attacked and pilfered the shops for about 15 minutes before the Aurors managed to arrive at the scene. No one was arrested; they apparently escaped the second their wards collapsed. The damage and cost of the stolen goods are estimated to roughly five hundred Galleons. There were no deaths, but twenty bystanders got light injuries and a man's wand hand was cut off. The Healers have thankfully managed to heal him and he'll recover full usage of his hand again by the end of the week."

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, they are getting bolder, apparently. One question Lucius, among the twenty rebels, was there a young man of about fifteen, with dark hair and green eyes?"

Lucius looked taken aback.

"I didn't hear of anybody of this description, my Lord. Would you like me to proceed to further enquiries about this boy?"

"No, he probably wasn't there if nobody remembers seeing him. He is a remarkable person, after all, so he wouldn't have escaped notice so easily."

"Miss Tonks might be of some help. I'll ask her if she has seen someone of this description, if you were agreeable?" suggested Lucius.

"Yes, proceed and tell me if it is the case. Don't bother investigating it any longer if it isn't. I'll see the brat soon enough, I'd wager. At the next Victory Day again, perhaps..." He trailed off, pensively.

He had long admitted to himself that he held some sort of morbid curiosity about the boy ever since he was reminded of his existence some years ago. The news about him was quite scarce, but he hadn't forgotten about the talented and somewhat jaded eleven years old ever since he saw him in the Pensieve. And Miss Tonks had obligingly transferred more of those memories (among others) for his perusal in exchange for her freedom.

The only thing missing now was a direct encounter. Perhaps he would draw him out of this dingy camp with a direct challenge that no Gryffindor could refuse. Something of the "come out or we kill everyone else" sort?

The girl's memories clearly showed that the Rebels were grooming Potter to defeat him (as if that would happen!), but there was no telling what Potter himself thought of his "Destiny".

Voldemort honestly found the whole thing rather amusing. Or disturbing.

If they really wanted him dead that much, why hadn't they ever as much as attempted to take his life? Did they really believe that it was completely up to a boy to defeat him, so much that they couldn't even try to help him?

The only situation where he'd see himself defeated by the boy would be in a twenty-against-one fight where Potter would just happen to shoot the last spell that would kill him. Temporarily.

But no matter. People brought up under great stress or expectations tended to become either extremely conformist and boring, or extremely strong and imaginative and he was sure he would find it quite interesting to talk to the boy. And Merlin only knows how sorely he lacked of conversationalists here (he shouldn't have sent the Potions Master away to Hogwarts. For all of Snape's sunny disposition, he was still one of his only Death Eaters with a head on his shoulders)...

There would always be time to kill each other afterwards. Where was the hurry? And besides, there was no fun in a challenge-less duel...Maybe he should let the kid grow a bit before he seeks him out. Let him have a life before ending it prematurely, and all that...

But back to the matter of the strange soul connection. How could he have not noticed it before? Was it recent? Soul connections are not spontaneously formed. They also have absolutely nothing to do with soul mates. Niet, nada. Soul mates were fairy tales created to make some vapid witches swoon when thinking of the handsome prince to which they were destined. Soul connections, however, had everything to do with the Ancient Art of Soul Magic that he used to make his Horcruxes.

A sudden sense of dread filled him. _Oh no, don't tell me that Pettigrew is alive somewhere in me!_

He nearly shuddered in disgust when he thought of the rat getting anywhere near him. But Pettigrew was dead, and he didn't have Occlumency shields. So that ruled him out. Thank you, sweet Morgana, for that small blessing.

His Horcruxes didn't really have other interactions with anyone else as far as he knew.

_Ah, well, there was that abject traitor Regulus who knew of my secret but he didn't have time to do anything about it before I killed him...apart from if he managed to talk to his brother before he met his demise? Could Sirius Black have my locket? Could he have been working on finding the others all this time?_

He should go check on them. It had been far too long. Perhaps he'd place a couple of traps and fakes around, in case the Rebels knew about them. And he'll keep close tabs on that soul link from now on.

.

Lucius cleared his throat in a 'subtle' attempt to remind him of his presence.

_As if I'd let my guard down enough to forget about him._ He snorted in his head.

He had always been paranoid, especially when surrounded with his most cunning and powerful Death Eaters. He didn't trust anyone with his life. That was the best way to get stabbed in the back and he didn't want to go down to posterity as the next Cesar for every aspect of the Roman's life.

"Yes, Lucius, do have something else to tell me?" said Voldemort, sounding marginally annoyed.

"Yes, My Lord, it seems like a mysterious wizard was in Diagon Alley under a Disillusionment spell or an Invisibility Cloak some hours before the Rebel's raid. He apparently visited some shops without taking anything, since the shoplifting alarms were only raised after the arrival of the Rebels, and didn't steal from the customers either. I'm inclined to say that he was under an Invisibility Cloak of the best quality because nobody saw the tell-tale shimmer of the Disillusionment charm when he walked around the Alley and or the usual glitches of the Cloaks. A shopkeeper thinks he heard someone hit one of his crates and swear under his breath, but he really isn't sure. It also seems that the person tried to enter a joke shop minutes before the attack, but set off a prank trap and probably backtracked. We do not have conclusive evidence of the invisible man's presence in the Alley before the attack; however, we do have one witness with sustainable proof of his presence during the raid. The unknown man apparently shouted a protection spell to save a child's life from a stray curse. The mother of the child said she immediately tried to spot his protector, but didn't see anyone."

"Lucius, don't tell me you just wasted ten minutes of my time reconstructing all the 'mysterious happenings' of the day just to find who saved a child's life? " Voldemort interrupted, quite annoyed by now.

"No! I mean, my Lord, that's not all. The wards didn't exactly collapsed earlier, they were sabotaged from the inside and nobody present takes responsibility for that feat. Judging by what I saw of their magical strength, none of them would have been able to tear down part of the wards either. That's why our attention was brought to the mysterious man in the first place...

-What are your theories?" asked the Leader of the British Wizarding World.

"Crouch and I thought it was some type of vigilante, but it doesn't explain his presence or why he was invisible. His wand signature is not registered, so it's not any of the known Rebels either.

-Could you identify his wand core from the signature?

-There wasn't enough residual magic but we went to see Ollivander and he said it's probably unicorn hair, but that it might also be phoenix feather or selkie scale."

Voldemort pensively rubbed his lips with his index finger.

"You shouldn't concern yourself too much about that mysterious man, Lucius. He only helped your Aurors, after all. If you see any other cases of Rebel raids sabotaged by an unknown element, however, I would like you to inform me.

-Do you think that the Rebels have a traitor among them?

-It is too early to tell, but perhaps... Well, Lucius, unless you have something else to wish to tell me, that will be all.

-Yes, my Lord. Good night, my Lord.

-Good night, Lucius." He looked at Lucius leave the room, turning a thought around in his mind.

When he reached his conclusion, his lips slowly stretched in a pleased smirk.

_Well, well, well. You are turning out to be even more interesting than I thought, Harry Potter._

_._

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Voilà! I hope you liked it! It was a useful chapter to give an indication of how Voldemort will react when he does meet Harry and to open the whole "Horcruxes' Pandora's box". And no, for those who are worried, this fic isn't going to turn into a hunt for Horcruxes and there won't be any camping in the woods, I promise :P

The next chapter will skip some time because Harry has to grow up a bit before the story can continue. I cringe a bit every time I imagine a fourteen/fifteen years old Harry with a seventy something Voldemort. Don't get me wrong, I've read brilliant fics that were like that and liked them a lot. But I can't write one myself.

Ohhhh, yes, and the next chapter will have some elements of HPLV slash in it...ouhhh...At the moment, it's quite short and vague, just a few lines, but if you beg prettily, I might make it a bit longer, what do you all think? ( I think writing Voldemort's POV might have put me in a megalomaniacal mood, sorry about that ^^')

Thank you in advance for reviewing!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! And to those who didn't, well, join the love!

FanFictionLover: I wrote the 'begging' part just for you, actually. I wanted to see how you would react, hehe.

Guest: I got the idea for this story while I was reading _Prince of the Dark Kingdom_, actually. I did see IAMGINNY's story afterwards, and thought "ah, no, my idea is already been done.", but her take on it was quite different, I think.

Reader-anonymous-writer: I think Harry's Occlumency shields are more latent. He meditates every night before sleeping and they protect his mind from intrusion without him noticing. I also think that Parsel Magic shouldn't be as easy to master as a simple "thought-command" like it is in some other fanfics. If Harry discovers Parsel Magic, it will be by doing research or by...asking Voldemort about it? Ouhhh, we shall see.

Warning: mild sexual content.

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Chapter 9: 1996-1997: Of dreams and meetings

The best kind of dreams are the ones where you know you are dreaming, because then, you can change their flow at will. For instance, if you are having a nightmare about being chased by acromantulas, and you suddenly realise that it's just a dream, you can decide to turn around and fry them with the power of your mind, or to fly away from them without the help of a broom. You can also decide that you are fed up with then whole 'having nightmares business' and that you would rather have nice dreams about eating a whole pastry shop by yourself and suddenly, boom, a pastry shop appears just for you.

Most of my dreams, however, are about defending myself from numerous attacks, beating people up and killing my enemies, whoever they are. How could it be any different when my days were filled with nothing but magical training, physical training, spying on meetings, worrying about said spying, training with Sirius, talking with Sirius, training with Moody (a novelty that I wasn't sure I appreciated), worrying about "The Task" after being thoroughly trashed by said man and cracking a book from time to time about (what else?) Defense or defensive use of Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and any other discipline under the sun that could be closely or remotely applicable to combat situations.

Don't get me wrong, I was quite grateful that the Rebels took so much of their time to train me and it did make me feel better about my chances against Voldemort in the long run. However, I wasn't surprised when my enemies in my dreams progressively turned into crippled old aurors with magical eyes whizzing around.

And what I learned during my spying sessions didn't really help ingratiate the guy into my good graces either.

Apparently, he thought that I was a lazy, incompetent and unreliable boy, too impressionable to go on raids and too immature to sit on their meetings, despite Sirius' insistence that I should be included.

Such a judgment on his part would not have bothered me if it hadn't been from Neville. That one, according to Moody, was a precious gem. Hard-working (on his garden) and loyal (pliable), competent enough to go on a raid (and obey his commands without question) and mature enough to assist them in planning (and too shy to say a word in front of the other rebels or to object against anything), Neville followed the lead without asking questions and without once lifting his eyes from the ground.

When I started spying on the meetings a couple of months ago, I quickly learned some vital truths about the Rebels and their organisation.

First of all, Moody is the leader and if you have a problem against it, you can shove it.

Second of all, Moody doesn't like insubordination and only the former members of the Order of the Phoenix could place valid objections against his plans. But only Sirius dared to contradict him on a regular basis, really.

Third of all, the Rebels aren't comprised of just the people in this camp. It's an ever-expanding underground network of contacts, alliances, shady deals and old debts waiting to be repaid. Most of the meetings are about managing this network, and not about planning raids as I thought initially.

Fourth of all, as I'd learned with Tonks, if you leave the organisation, as far as Moody is concerned, you are no better than dead.

Fifth of all, the reason why nobody had Muggle jobs is because Moody thought it would bring too much attention to their location, even when everyone could apparate in or out.

Sixth of all, and lastly, they appeared to be vaguely searching for objects linked to the Dark Lord's past. Albus Dumbledore himself (the leader of the Light who died on Victory Day, April 3rd 1984), supposedly, had entrusted this mission to Moody and the latter refused to say anything of it, except for asking people to gather information about the Dark Lord's youth and about any objects that could be dear to him. To say that I learned quite a lot about my "ultimate enemy" during those meetings is an understatement.

Most of it, however, contradicted itself.

The Rebels and their network had managed to unearth all the dirt possible and imaginable on the man. For instance, his former snake-like appearance supposedly came from a curse sent to him by a scorned witch who had surprised him in a "compromising position" with his pet snake, Nagini.

She allegedly said: "If you like snakes so much, you disgusting scum, you can become one!" And Magic, who heard her, agreed with the witch and made him so.

Another story said that he still kept his rattle, the Royal Rattle passed through Slytherin line for generations, safely under his pillow every night to remind himself of days were everything were simpler.

There were also a lot of tales about his sexual life, ranging from monumental orgies, to harems, to an actual line of girls waiting in the corridor next to his bedroom every night, to having a throng of slaves that he raped every night, as painfully as possible, to being as much of a sadist in bed as he was in the battlefield, to, in fact, being such a sadist in life to compensate for severe erectile dysfunctions, or to being incredibly submissive in bed to escape, at last, all the pressure of being in charge in his life. And those theories were the most probable of a long list of possible sexual perversions and peculiar lifestyle.

The truth was that nobody had any idea of his sexual life.

No one even knew his sexual orientation. Not one lucky witch or wizard had ever been known for being even his temporarily lover, or had ever accompanied him to any official function.

The idealists said that he was still pinning about the love of his life that had tragically died at some point decades ago.

The realists said that he made his lovers sign contracts of non-disclosure before taking them to his bed.

Moody wasn't interested about the Dark Lord's sex life, except for if there was someone he could capture and use for ransom or if there was a strange kink with which he could lure the man in a trap.

Hence the long list of scandalous, empty gossips.

At some point, Sirius, who couldn't bear hearing the women of the group speculate about Voldemort's size any longer, inadvertently made one of the only good suggestions of the bunch when he said: "I really don't want to know how a slimy Slytherin uses his wand, his snake or his family jewels!"

The three aforementioned objects were evaluated. And judged worthy of further research.

One day, Moody arrived to the meeting with a stack of parchment he had found when he had recently gone and pilfered the last hidden shelter of Albus Dumbledore.

The man's notes on the life of Tom Marvolo Riddle painted the tragic story of a half-blood orphan of the line of Slytherin himself who grew up miserably in a Muggle orphanage. According to the old Headmaster of Hogwarts, the boy was somewhat of a magical prodigy and a masterful manipulator until the Dark Arts progressively ensnared him and stole his sanity and his humanity.

In the evening where these note were read, I had lain on the grass letting the words wash over me as I imagined a younger Voldemort, full of bitterness and ambition, fight his way to the top of the Wizarding World.

Hestia had been the one to read them out loud, but I heard them in the smooth and powerful voice of the man about which they were written.

I imagined myself sitting in an armchair in a room shrouded in the dark, the dwindling life of a dying fire lighting half of the Dark Lord's face as he wove for me the tale of his youth, his eyes never breaking away from mine.

.

That night, in my bed, I dreamt of strong masculine hands roaming my body and pulling me closer to a muscular chest, of sensuous lips kissing me deeply, exploring every corner of my mouth before latching on my neck and marking me and of ruby-red eyes looking into my soul as I discovered a new world of sensations.

And, for once, I didn't fight to regain control of my dreams.

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.

Quite short, I know^^ Sorry for those who wanted a longer slash, you'll have to wait a bit longer for it, hehe. I did add a bit to it (imagine how short it was before, then!), but I didn't think that a longer slash part would work well at this point of the story, so I stayed pretty vague.

This chapter was a bit of a transitional chapter, to make Harry grow up, as I said last time. Next chapter, the story will progress forward and it does have some more slash action in it, I think you'll like it.

Thank you in advance to everyone who reviews! I really, really appreciate it, guys. :D


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you again for all those amazing reviews! You guys are awesome!

This is one of my favourite chapters so far, so I hope you'll like it!

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Chapter 10: 26th of March 1997: The Library

Ever since I had heard about the new magical library in Edinburgh, I had itched to go.

Its grand opening had been celebrated on New Years' Eve with a spectacular display of fireworks, free champagne and an orchestra playing for the finest of the witches and wizards in Britain. They had apparently chosen the date in honour of the Dark Lord's birthday, partly in hope that he would show up with all his court for the evening and bring a tremendous amount of publicity with him, as all of his public appearances did. And he did, in fact, show up, because the library had been a personal project of his and he loved to see his wishes granted and his will carried out.

I learnt about it after the fact, sadly. Not that I could have escaped from Sirius' attention on what he considered "an important holiday", but I would have loved to go there under my Invisibility Cloak and just watch the man mingle with the guests, drink some champagne, maybe laugh.

Truth be told, I had recently become 'plagued' by some dreams about the Dark Lord which disturbed me as much as they aroused me.

I thought that I had created this image of the man in my mind, which was larger than life and that, if only I'd see him again, I would realise how I exaggerated his presence and his charm and return to my formal mindset.

This perfect occasion missed, I couldn't wait until the next Victory Day to be able to regain my peace of mind.

Voldemort would kill me the minute he saw me if he knew who I was, after all, and the crowd of a 3rd of April granted me some illusion of security. In our final battle, it would simply not do to jeopardise my already slim chances of survival by acting as if I was infatuated with the man (_which I most definitely wasn't. I'd never even met the guy!_)...

But I had wanted to go to the library for a whole different reason that its inauguration ceremony.

It was the first library of it kind in Great Britain since the Great Fire of London of 1666. The Muggle version of the event was that it started in a bakery. Quite the anticlimactic cover-up story. The real cause of the fire was a battle between wizards. More precisely, a group of dark wizards had taken control of the Great Magical Library of London and thought it would be hilarious to make the rest of the community pay for having the rare books back. The Minister at the time was a no-nonsense former head of the Aurors who didn't want to bow down before anyone and certainly not for such ruffians. He ordered his Aurors to take back the Library at any cost and, well...one of them tried their hand at Fiendfyre, of course, and the rest is history.

The sheer amount of knowledge lost that day was catastrophic and all the old families learnt the lesson to keep their precious books to themselves in their family manors and to never show them to anybody.

The library in Hogwarts had been the largest library accessible to public since then. It's hardly surprising to say that such restricted access to knowledge has hindered the progress of magical research and development in Britain and that magical theorists and masters in their fields were practically salivating when the project of a new public library was announced.

Public libraries also meant one thing: access to knowledge to the poor and middle-class people who can't afford to buy every book they wanted to read.

Which was the case for everyone in the Rebels' camp.

They had been particularly incensed when they learned of the tight security measures put in place to reassure the population of Edinburgh and the potential visitors that there wouldn't be "another Great Fire of London" because of this library. Despite their indignation, even Moody said that he had thought of holding the books in hostage and that such measures were to be expected. They meant that none of the known Rebels could go, sadly.

However, I wasn't a known rebel and I hadn't gone to Hogwarts, so I was in desperate need of information. After months of spying on their meetings and not knowing what I could do to protect the wizarding population, I concluded that I needed the right spell to leak my information to the Aurors in an untraceable way.

.

So that day, while Sirius and the others were at a meeting to talk about "the objects" again, I quietly slipped out of the village and headed out of the wards by myself for the first time in years.

I had been a bit traumatised after the raid I saw in Diagon Alley and had trouble convincing myself that I hadn't been partly responsible for it, in a weird, karmic way. The enormous twist in my gut every time I thought of the twins' shop and what I had done there last time was another incentive for me to stay away from Diagon Alley.

I pivoted around and apparated to Edinburgh. I thanked Sirius in my head for bringing me there once for a fun fair years ago. I appeared in a loud crack that showed my lack of experience with the spell.

I stood at the edge of a large marketplace where people were bustling about, visiting the stands spread around in a large circle. There were tables in the middle where one could sit to eat or to look at what they have purchased. At the north of the marketplace stood the British Magical Library in all its splendour.

It was a high building made of white stones with a row of columns at the front and a dome atop it, modelled after the Pantheon in Rome. The pediment (the large triangular piece above the columns) was decorated with sculptures of magical creatures standing proudly. Banners were hanging between the columns, welcoming the visitors and informing them of the opening hours.

I entered the building slowly, full of anticipation. I was no bookworm, but everything about that place screamed wealth and knowledge enough to even make me enthusiastic.

The inside was equally splendid. There were rows after rows of wooden bookcases and the walls were decorated with scenes of magical history and folklore. The vaulted ceiling showed the outdoor sky, like at Hogwarts, but, as I had never been at the school, the magic fascinated me.

A small cough pulled me from my awed state. I turned to the left to see a tall guy who looked barely a couple of years older than me on the other side of the registration counter. He had brown hair, grey eyes and soft features. He shot me a warm smile and beckoned me closer.

"Pretty impressive, right?" he asked.

"You can say that! I've never seen anything like it!

-You haven't been at Hogwarts?" he asked, surprised.

"No, ah, I was home-schooled actually." I answered a bit hesitantly.

"Well, you're lucky that it's a slow Tuesday, I'll have time to show you around properly if you want." He said with another nice smile.

"Oh, yes, that would be great, thanks" I said, a bit surprised by the offer. _Do they really do that for everyone? That would take a lot of time!_

"Before that though, since it's your first time, I'll have to go through the security measures. You know, to make sure that you're not an evil rebel or anything," he said with a wink.

I laughed a bit nervously.

"Ha, ha, right. What do I have to do?"

"Do you have an identification card? Your apparition license would work fine if you have it." _Which I don't because I'm sixteen and I've apparatd illegally since my fourteenth birthday..._

"I have a Muggle driving licence, would that work?" Sirius had made me do it, saying that you never knew when the ability to drive a Muggle car could be useful in your life.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll have to register your wand's signature then though. I know that's a bit intrusive, but it's the rules!"

He ended his sentence in a falsely cheery voice, as if he was a bit embarrassed to ask that of me. Normally, only criminals had their wands registered, so it was not a really courteous request. I figured that I couldn't go around it in any way since I didn't want my real name registered, so I gave him my Muggle id.

"Hadrian Black, hum? Any relations to the infamous 'Black Rebel'?" he asked, as if he had made a really good joke.

Sirius had suggested this name for the Muggle World, saying that it would be like he had at last managed to adopt me. I had rolled my eyes at the time, but I had been touched by his words.

"Well, I'm from a minor branch of the Blacks. He's the Heir. I never met him." I said in a bit of a curt voice.

"Ah, yes, well, sorry, I really didn't mean to insult you. Forgive me?"

He gave me a weird puppy-eyed look. _What the heck? What is wrong with that guy? Does he really take customer satisfaction to his heart that much?_

"Ehm, yeah, sure, no problem."

I looked around, a bit ill at ease.

He filled in the register form with the data from my id card and politely requested that I do a _lumos_ in a small glass vial that he stoppered after I was done. He wrote more information down, waved his wand above my file and produced a little card that he handed to me.

"That's your library card, but you can't borrow books before your file has been approved, and that can take a few days, especially 'cause it's still in the first few months and a lot of new people are registering."

I looked at the nearly empty place.

"A lot of people, hum? You sure look busy." I said, jokingly.

"I know, I know, but it's just a slow Tuesday; you should this place on Friday evenings, it's crawling with people! It's a good thing I only work during the week. It gives me more time for when nice visitors come around, you know?" He winked at me again for an unfathomable reason.

"And well, it's better like that don't think? Now, I can show you around and tell you everything you want to know..."

He left his sentence incomplete and I began to sense something that made me feel a bit uneasy. _What the heck is he on about?_

"Right, should we get on with it then?" he asked, still smiling.

"Yeah, sure, lead the way" I made a fake half-smile, but he immediately brightened. _Wow, that's dedication to his job if he's that pleased to satisfy visitors_.

"By the way, my name is Cedric. Cedric Diggory." He extended a hand and I shook it.

"Hadrian Black, but you already know that, right?" I joked again, relaxing a bit. _I don't know what's wrong me with me. He's just a really nice guy._

Cedric called his colleague to replace him at the registration counter and began his tour of the place. I mentally jotted down the aisles that interested me more (Defense and Charms) and asked a couple of question about how the index book worked.

Cedric was a good guide. He really got animated when he started talking about Hogwarts and his Hufflepuff House.

Sirius had always joked about how unremarkable Hufflepuffs tended to be. _Well, this one is quite passionate about his job as a librarian, it appears._ I smiled a bit at the thought and Cedric, who saw the smile, lit up again and started to walk a bit closer to me. I found it a bit odd since there was still quite a lot of space in the alleyway, but left it at that.

At one point, he wanted to get me to turn and look at something and he put his hand on the small of my back. I jumped a bit at the touch and looked at the guy, but he was acting as if everything he was doing was normal and was focused on the thing he wanted to show me. Something about a picture of a fat monk?

I could feel the warmth of his hand seeping through my jacket and I had to resist the urge to squirm away.

_Maybe it's a new custom in the Wizarding World that I don't know about. I am pretty sheltered in the village, after all. _

I exhaled and forced myself to relax.

He continued his visit, guiding me progressively towards the back of the Library. By now, I had a bit enough of it and just wanted to go check the books, but I didn't want to be impolite, especially when he had dedicated so much of his time for me.

He got in a row of books and I followed him automatically. When he stopped in the middle without saying anything, I shot him a puzzled look. The weird feeling was back.

I looked at the guy, evaluating.

_Well, if he attacks me, I think I can take him._

He was a bit taller than me, and a bit larger too, but I had lots of fighting experience.

I wasn't small per se, maybe average for a guy and, despite all my training, I wasn't really 'buff' either. I've always had a lean build and probably always would have.

Still, I wasn't afraid of a Hufflepuff. I snorted internally at the thought.

While I was looking at him and evaluating my chances in a fight, Cedric had made a couple of steps toward me.

I watched him, standing my ground and not afraid of anything.

He smiled a bit at my attitude. _He has a nice smile_, thought my brain randomly.

He looked me in the eyes and seemed to find some sort of confirmation, because he drew in a breath, as if gathering his courage, licked his lips and bended down to mine.

When they connected, I started, my head not really processing what was happening, and made a small noise of surprise, which Cedric apparently interpreted as enthusiasm because he began kissing me in earnest.

My eyes shut and I imagined that I was back in the room with the fireplace and that the man kissing me had long dark hair. I thought of how soft His lips had seemed, of how different from my dreams this felt. I could nearly feel His magic swirling around me and moaned at the thought.

The unusual feeling of a tongue probing mine startled me out of my reverie and made me open my eyes and draw away.

My heart sank in deception when I saw that the man before me was still Cedric, the nice, kind of ordinary librarian, and not someone else infinitely more dangerous.

_What the heck? Did he just kiss me like that?! And I just kissed him back!_

I felt myself redden at what I had just done. And, more precisely, at whom I was thinking about while I was doing it.

_I wonder if a lot of people think of the Dark Lord when they are kissing? Or... screwing?_ Oh, by the gods, no. I did not just think that.

Cedric was still watching me, looking pleased at my dazed expression. I thought about kissing him again to go back to my fantasy, but I didn't think it would be fair to him to be wishing for another pair of lips when he was kissing me.

I pulled a hand up and wiped my mouth distractedly. I cleared my throat a bit nervously, looking around a bit before setting my eyes on him again.

"Hmm, listen, err...

-Cedric" he completed.

"Bloody hell, I know your name!" I said a bit too loud, agitated.

"Sorry" he said in a dejected tone.

"No, ok, look. I don't know what gave you the impression that I wanted to kiss you, but I'm sorry, I didn't want to lead you on or anything." There, that was smooth.

"But you smiled at me and didn't protest when I touched you. And I definitely saw you checking me out just before I kissed you. So you can't pretend you're not interested! What is it, then, do you have a boyfriend?"

-What makes you think I don't have a girlfriend?" I asked in a calm voice that didn't betray anything of the agitation I was feeling within. Was I even gay? I had always kind of assumed that I was 'Voldesexual' because my fantasies so far all started and ended with the Dark Lord. Which was a disturbing and scary fact.

"Well, sorry, but you're clearly gay. And you liked kissing me, that was obvious." Well, wasn't that easy to figure out? According to Cedric, I was 'clearly' gay, whatever that meant. Was there some sort of arrow pointed above my head and a sign saying 'I'm gay and certainly willing to kiss the first other gay stranger passing by'? I snorted internally. If that was the case, the sign should also put up a disclaimer saying 'Not responsible for his obsessive thoughts about the Leader of this Realm'.

I cleared my throat again. I felt oddly detached from this boy who had given me my first real kiss.

"Well, Cedric, this has been eye-opening for me. Sadly, I'll have to decline further experimentations. Again, I wasn't trying to lead you on. I'm just... not really interested, sorry." My tone came out a bit too cold, too business-like. I cringed internally.

"I have to go, sorry." I repeated, suddenly needing to get away from him and get out of this place. I backtracked out of the row of books, shooting a last glance at Cedric, who seemed frozen in place and not really understanding what was happening.

Not looking at anyone, I had to restrain myself to keep from bolting out of the place while I hurried away.

When I arrived at the doors, I nearly collided with a tall dark-haired man. I glanced at him quickly, _no, it's not Him, _and fluidly skirted around the man.

Outside, I briskly walked to the Apparition wards and popped back to my village. My last thoughts before entering the security of the curtain of blue light again was:

_I can't go to the Victory Day procession this year. I won't be able to look at him in the eye without blushing madly. What the heck is wrong with me?! _

I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts and entered.

.

Severus Snape was not a forgiving man. He wasn't a nice man either so he had been 'this' close to hexing into oblivion the idiotic teen who nearly collided with him.

But he hadn't, because, in a flash, when the dunderhead lifted his head to shoot him a hurried and slightly panicked look, he saw Her eyes again. And then he knew just who the teen was. He turned his head to look at the boy floating away in an oddly graceful walk and swallowed his impulse to roar, "Potter!" in an oh-so satisfying way.

_So the boy knows how to read, then?_

He snorted out loud, not caring if anybody heard him.

_The idiot probably thought there was a comic section here and stormed away, displeased, when he saw that this serious library didn't cater to his whims._

Well, at least this showed that he had been right, all those years ago: her boy looked like he was alive and well, and he definitely knew about the Wizarding World and its current events if he came here now.

He should probably tell the Dark Lord of this sighting. Unfortunately, his master had recently taken up the strange obsession of collecting information about the boy.

Oh well, if it becomes known that Potter was here at the same time than he, Severus would just pretend that he missed him of a couple of seconds. He nearly had, after all.

His still sharp reflexes detected a second incoming boy before the other idiot reached him. He recognised Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff alumni, running outside.

_What is it with young people running in libraries today?_

He grumbled, returning to his quest for a precious book about innovative combinations of East-Asian flora with Scandinavian fish parts and how they could very well revolutionise the world of Healing Potions.

* * *

Voilà! I hope you all liked it!

Don't worry, this won't be a HPCD slash fic, no no no.

Next chapter will have quite a bit of action (not slash action, action-action) and a Sirius' POV for the first time in the story.

Thank you in advance for reviewing! It just takes you a few seconds, but it makes me smile the whole day when I read them :)


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Wooouuuh! This story has more than 100 reviews! Yayyy! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I really, really appreciate the effort! Keep it up, my lovely reviewers, favouriters and followers :D

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Chapter 11: Saturday, 3rd of April 1997, Part One: Of Quests and Dangers.

To say that I was dissatisfied with the results of my first solo expedition out of the wards for years was to put it mildly.

I had wanted to find a solution to my problem by pouring over books for hours and had minded myself for staying there until I found the answer.

Finding the right timing to leave the village without being discovered had also been difficult, not to mention that I hated to miss meetings about 'the objects' because I always learned something new about the Dark Lord in them (although it was often buried under mountains of scandals and gossips) and that, last time, Moody had mentioned that he had found conclusive evidence for the location of one of the objects. It was difficult for me to miss that meeting to go bury myself in books, but I had thought then that it would be a productive use of my time.

Instead, I had ended up, of all things, with a disproportionate amount of information about Hufflepuffs throughout the ages and the tongue of one of them buried in my mouth. I had also discovered that, to the rest of the world, I was 'obviously gay'... and that it was socially acceptable to shove your tongue down the throat of a virtual stranger just because he seemed to share your sexual orientation.

Well, let's just say that it wasn't the revelations I had in mind when I planned to go there in the first place. Let's also say that I resolved never to go back there again during the week, when Cedric told me he would be working.

So when my library card heated up a few days ago, indicating that it was ready for usage, I had begun to ponder when I should return to minimise the possibilities of 1) stumbling on the tongue-enthusiastic librarian, 2) having my absence discovered by the rest of the Rebels, 3) not having enough time to find my solution in one go and 4) cracking down and going to humiliate myself in front of the Dark Lord at the Victory Day procession.

I had therefore concluded that I should go on the 3rd of April, when the library would assuredly be as empty as possible and when the Rebels had planned to go retrieve the mysterious object. What those objects were, nobody but Moody knew, but he apparently thought it would be a dangerous mission, since he had delegated our three best fighters...and Neville to go pick it up. Why Neville, again, I had no idea. Maybe he hoped the spineless boy would distract the enemies long enough to allow the rest of them to flee, or that he would activate all the traps by himself, leaving the others free to complete the job. No, okay, that was mean and Neville didn't deserve that. But I couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the other teen. Wasn't I the one with the extensive training? Shouldn't I be the one to accompany the others, logically? Anyway, they had asked to borrow my Invisibility Cloak, for Neville. I didn't dare to refuse and have the boy's death on my conscience should something happen, so I lent it to them.

Sirius was in charge of the expedition and that was one of the reasons why I had chosen today, of all days, to go to a library. If I had stayed at the camp waiting for them, I would have just paced around growing more and more nervous for nothing. At least now, I'd be doing something productive.

.

So, this morning, I got up early and had a silent breakfast with Sirius. He seemed on edge and nervous about his expedition and kept shooting me knowing and disapproving glances when he thought I wasn't looking. He thought that I would return to the procession again this year and I didn't say anything to convince him otherwise. It was a good cover, after all. I finished my breakfast quickly and told him I was going to go train and meditate to strengthen my shields today. I got up and stopped just before I left the house, looking at him worriedly.

I hesitated.

He smiled a bit and said: "Go, Harry. Have fun. I'll be there when you come back.

-Yeah, hum, you too, have fun at whatever you're doing. We'll have dinner together tonight and catch up, right?

-Sure thing, Prongslet," he said with a wink and a good-natured smile.

"Right. Have a good day, then" I gave him a small smile and went out.

When I apparated at Edinburgh's magical market, I noticed that big screens had been put up. It was a new technology, a derivative from the two-way mirrors, which allowed two people to communicate with each other. It was called "the Window" and it allowed multiple "windows" to show what was happening at a certain place where their "event captor" was. It was apparently a magical advancement brought by a Muggleborn who was scandalised that the Wizarding World didn't have cameras and televisions.

Later today, this technology would be used to make sure that everybody who wanted to hear the Dark Lord's speech would be able to go to their nearest "window spot" and listen to it.

It didn't beat being there in person, in my humble opinion.

I went up to the library and opened the door cautiously. Short of Disillusioning myself, which would have tripped the security wards, I couldn't do anything but to go straight in there and hope for the thrice-accursed librarian to not be there. I'd sooner throw my body in the path of a castrating curse before I let myself be chased away by an embarrassing misunderstanding. I owed as much to my Gryffindor heritage.

I took a breath and stepped inside. A girl was standing at the registration counter. I showed her my library card, throwing a cursory glance the rest of the building to make sure the devil wasn't working on shelving some books.

"You're looking for Cedric, right?" asked the girl. My head swivelled back to her.

"What?" I asked, incredulous.

"Oh, you just looked like you were looking for someone and a lot of girls and of guys like...you know, like you, they come to see him work here." My insides froze. I hoped she wasn't talking about what I thought she was.

" A lot of Hufflepuffs, you mean?" I asked, to get her a nice way out of this conversation. _Just what type of guy is this Cedric anyway? Does he go around offering his 'favours' to all his 'nice visitors' like he did for me?_

She let out a little nervous laugh.

"Ah, yes, sorry, hum. So you know him, then?" she asked, not getting the hint.

"I don't want to start a discussion about him; I just want to go read." By now, I was quite annoyed by her insistence on not dropping the subject.

"Ah yes, sorry, sir. Oh, now I remember. He told me that if someone of your description was to come by, to present his sincere excuses for what happened...

-Right. I'll go now. Good day." I said curtly, not wanting to think about the event for a second more.

"Good day!" I heard her call at my back while I was resolutely walking toward the Charms section.

_So...untraceable communication methods, here we come._

OoOoO

Sirius Black knew of his godson's unhealthy crush on the Dark Lord. It was too obvious not to notice. And it worried him deeply. But the one lesson he learnt in his thirteen or so years of parenting was that the more you forbid a child to do something, the more said child will do it, or will yearn for it. And if his years with Harry hadn't taught him that enough, he had his own life to take as an example of that philosophy. So, instead of forbidding Harry to go to the procession, like it itched him to do, he simply remained silent, hoping that at the right moment, Harry would remember who brought him up and who took care of him the best he could and would make the right decisions for his life.

However, he didn't have much more time to ponder the question, because the current happenings in his own life drew him away from his reflections. His team and him were standing in front of a dilapidated shack with a decomposed snake on its door.

Emmeline was working on the wards with Hestia, Kingsley was scanning the perimeter and casting illusion charms to hide them from anyone looking in their direction and Neville...well. Neville was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, probably scared shitless. Why Moody wanted them to take the kid, he didn't know. Harry would have contributed to the mission ten times more than Neville, but, for reasons incomprehensible to everyone but him, Moody didn't want Harry closely or remotely implicated in the "epic search for mysterious objects" as Sirius had dubbed this strange quest.

He looked at the shack again. This hovel was supposed to be where the Gaunts, proud descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself, had lived for generations. Grimmauld Place didn't look so bad in comparison. _My mother is probably rolling in her grave right now..._

Kingsley nodded once, indicating that their backs were covered. Sirius made a sign of his hand meaning "follow me" and moved up to the door.

At his approach, the dead snake came back to life and sprung on him.

He dodged it and it fell to the ground, hissing. Sirius flicked his wand and the snake burned to ashes. He exhaled. First trap, it meant that this ruin was still active and that there would be more of those inside.

He looked around; his team was fine. He turned back to the entrance and magically blasted it off its hinges. If there was a team of Inferi on the other side, he'd see it before it was too late. The door noisily fell on the ground.

Inside, everything was quiet. He cast a magical scan and it came back negative; nothing alive was in there.

He took a sphere out of his pocket, lit it with an overpowered _Lumos_ and threw it inside the shack. It exploded in a bright flash, illuminating every corner. The particle infused with the spell would keep the shadows away for about half-an-hour. His wand would be free now that he didn't have to hold a _Lumos_ and it will allow him to focus on more important spells.

He scanned the room, but the light revealed nothing new. Could the place really be abandoned? The snake could have been only the product of residual dark magic. He sent another probe in to check for dark curses. It came back negative. Maybe Moody was wrong and there was nothing here.

He stayed alert and waved his left hand twice to make his team back him up. He stepped on the threshold, holding his wand up, ready for anything. Nothing happened.

He advanced inside the shack.

The minute he was in, he felt constricting wards activate. _Shit!_ He thought, adrenaline pumping in his vein and a shield spell at the edge of his lips.

Nothing moved, but he could see a faint barrier on the entrance. His magical sight wasn't as strong as when he was younger (he had neglected to practise it after he ran away from the Black home) and he cursed himself for not training this ability. Harry was far more proficient than him in this. He would probably be able to see all the layers of the wards at this moment and be able to analyse them.

His limited training, however, let him know that this was a blood ward. That was bad. With blood as pure and as dark as the Slytherin lineage, the wards were practically indestructible.

_Shit, shit, shit! At least I'm the only one trapped in here._

He could faintly hear his team sending counter-wards spells at the door and the front façade but he knew that they would be useless. The only way to get out of there for him was to be let out by someone of the blood lineage or to find the flask of blood that anchored the wards to the house.

He cast another diagnostic charm around. It came back negative. He exhaled slowly to calm himself and started his search. If he found the blood vial before the 'mysterious object', he'd smash it to the ground and get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. Moody be damned.

If there was one thing he learnt as a Black, it was that you never try to fight Blood Magic of a family older than yours, because you'll lose. Unequivocally.

He started to sweat in nervousness. Suddenly, he spotted a painting on the wall that looked out of place. _Would it be that easy? Thank you, Lily, for showing me those Muggle detective movies!_ He hurried to it. And nearly got sliced up by tripping a trap rigged with cutting hexes.

He fell back, his shield surrounding him. The hexes converged on him, turning back to him when he dodged them.

_What the heck is this spell! I need something to block them or this will be the end of the great Black Rebel and I can't do that to the ladies, hehe_.

He laughed nervously under his breath as he swirled away from the 'possessed' spells again. He spotted the kitchen table and summoned it in the path of the curse.

The table exploded, sending him in one of the walls. He put his strongest shield up and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact. He sat there for a few seconds, nothing happening, before he opened his eyes and saw that the spells had disappeared, the table thoroughly shattered on the ground.

He let out a sigh of deep relief and wiped his forehead with his forearm, catching his breath and looking around.

Everything was calm again. The place looked ever more dilapidated now, with the damage caused by the cutting spells. _Or whatever they were._

He took a second to evaluate the situation. If there was a trap in front of the portrait, it probably meant that he was in the right path.

He got up slowly, and stepped closer to the painting. An ugly woman was portrayed, a snake around her neck. Luckily for him, the portrait was inactive, so the 'lady' didn't react at his approach.

He cast all the detection charms that he knew on it and picked up an abnormal concentration of dark magic behind it but nothing on it directly. _Bingo,_ as Lily always said.

He used his wand to unglue the ugly thing off the wall and to throw it aside. Behind it was a small compartment. In it, a ring sat on a plinth. Sirius bent his neck closer to the ring to examine it. He saw a small carving on the stone atop of it. He drew back quickly, inhaling sharply in surprise.

_No, no, it can't be! The symbol of the Deathly Hallows! My brother's favourite story! It's real!_

Regulus had always said he would be the one to reunited the Hallows and become the Master of Death. Sirius had always laughed at him for believing in a fairy tale but his mother had encouraged the folly. Now he knew why. They were real...

This was the Resurrection Stone...Sirius thought of everybody he lost in the war. A thought struck him like lightning. James, Lily, Albus, even little Nymphadora! He could have them back! Harry could finally get to know his parents in person!

Sirius imagined Harry's delighted smile when he'd see his parents for the first time.

He'd run toward them and engulf his mother in a tight hug, crying softly while his father would rub his back soothingly, telling him he was proud of him. And then Harry would turn to Sirius and thank him for giving him his parents back. That it was the best gift in the entire universe and that he loved him so much.

Sirius would also have his best friend and his mentor back. He'd no longer be living aimlessly, one day at a time without knowing if he was doing the right thing with his life.

He could even have his brother back. His stupid little brother who got himself mixed up with the wrong crowd but still managed to see the error of his way before his end. And he'd give the Stone to Regulus, saying he had kept it safe for him.

While he was thinking, his hand had drifted closer to the ring, nearly touching it. Sirius looked at it greedily. This was the answer to all his problems. He'd see all of them again. They'd know what to do.

His hand closed around the ring, caressing it briefly, admiring how smooth the metal was before he slipped it on his finger.

OoOoO

I sat back in my seat, rotating my head to get rid of the kinks in my neck. I looked at my notes, satisfied with my work.

_I only have to test my theories before I can use it. At long last, I'll be able to help the Aurors and protect the population. _

I was gathering the sheets of paper spread around on my table when I heard a great clamour outside. The Dark Lord must have just finished his speech.

_Oh well, see if I care. It's not a big deal; I bet he did another speech about how everything is fine in the world and how he's so proud of his sheep mob._

I packed my stuff and exited the Library.

Outside, people were deep in discussion about what they just heard. Something was wrong. I frowned and walked in the crowd, trying to get an idea of what the speech was about.

"...turn into an all-out civil war?"

"About time He decided to fight back against the Rebels. This situation has been allowed to go on for too long. I'll tell you, if it was me..."

"But are they really that dangerous?"

"...in Diagon Alley two years ago. Those people are just vandals. They broke everything they saw and stole everything of value they could reach..."

"Have you seen the Dark Lord though?"

"Yeah, I know, at some point, he just stopped in the middle of a sentence, it was weird. It was as if he was hesitating..."

"...just switched the subject of his speech in the middle of it..."

"...fore he started his speech, he looked like he was searching for someone in the crowd..."

"...left quite quickly after his speech though. He's never in such a hurry usually..."

I had listened for only about a minute and already my mind was racing. The Dark Lord decided to fight back against the Rebels?

It should be great news, since that's what I had planned as well, but I was worried about the people I knew. I didn't want anyone to die, I just wanted the Rebels to lower their wands and start living again. From what I'd heard about Voldemort's tactics in the war, he wasn't the type to spare his enemies in the battlefield, unless he had a good reason for it.

My gut twisted in guilt and indecision.

_What should I do? Should I really leak the location of their raids if that could get them killed?_

Something I heard suddenly came back to me. The Dark Lord left the stage in a hurry. What if he decided to settle the problem right there and then?

_Shit! Sirius' mission! It was today! He must have discovered they were going for his objects! Shit! Sirius!_

I ran away from the marketplace and returned to my village as fast as I could.

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Ouhh, cliffie. What's going to happen?

You'll see in part 2!

Thank you in advance for reviewing! Just a few words are enough to make me smile for ages. Don't hesitate! :)


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed! It's so appreciated! I'd reply to all of you, but PMs are so direct that I'm afraid of scaring you away if I keep bothering you with them. Am I wrong to think that? ^^'

Anna: The guests reviews have to be approved before they can be posted. That's why your review took some time to appear. You're spot on with your theories, though. Hehe, it's nice to see that people are trying to guess what is going to happen :)

FanFictionLover: Wow. Thank you for all your praise! I do hope you are going to continue reading this story, since you seem like my number one fan (or, at least, the most enthusiastic and demonstrative), hehe. I'll keep that review in mind next time I feel insecure about my writing skills ;)

I was originally split this chapter in two at a very crucial part, but I decided to play nice and give it you at the same time.

Warnings: Violence and a bit of gore

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Chapter 12: Saturday, 3rd of April 1997, Part Two: Of Pain and Endings.

Sirius closed his eyes, feeling the power of the Hallow fill him and began to call for his best friend James to come back to life before his world exploded in pain.

It felt like he had just plunged it in an inferno. He felt the burn slowly spreading up his arm and gulped. His hand had blackened completely.

He staggered away from the compartment in the wall and nearly fell to the ground. He gritted his teeth to keep himself from howling in pain. It was so much worse that the Cruciatus.

He stumbled to the entrance door, wanting to check on his team. The wards dissipated when he approached them. He exhaled a sigh of relief before he saw the scene waiting for him outside the shack.

He stood there, shell-shocked, as Hestia's head rolled at his feet. Without the rest of the body.

.

The Dark Lord was having fun. He was duelling three Rebels at the same time and having a great time playing with them. It had been too long since he had the time for a good and bloody combat.

Initially, when he had felt the alarms spells he placed at the Gaunt shack ring in his head during his annual speech, he had been furious. _How dare they go steal something of mine?_ He'd thought. He had nearly stopped his speech there, leaving Lucius to deal with the aftermath. But it wouldn't do to present a less-than-perfect façade to his people. It would shatter their belief in his omnipotence.

So he had stayed, choosing on the spot to completely change his speech to one rallying the population against the Rebels. They had been allowed way too much leeway, he knew.

At first, he had done it on purpose, as a means of controlling the rest of the population through stricter regulations and laws. But now, if they knew about his Horcruxes, they couldn't be allowed to live. He would crush those little ants with the heel of his boot.

The speech done, he shot a look at Lucius to order him to finish things in his stead. He disapparated to the Gaunt shack.

Neville was bored. Nothing was happening. Of course, at first, he had been terrified. Moody had sent him on a dangerous raid, telling him that, as the real Chosen One, he had to get used to fighting.

Neville didn't want to be the Chosen One, he just wanted to tend to his garden and be left alone.

He'd seen what "the Task" had done to Harry's life. It had completely taken over every aspect of it. Everything he did in the village was judged and evaluated; everybody's hopes and expectations were on his shoulders.

Neville wouldn't wish that on anyone, himself included. He was quite happy to stay in the background.

About two years ago, however, Moody came to see him. He told him that there had been a mistake, that he, plain old Neville, was the Chosen One. He said Harry was tainted with darkness. That he had to die.

Neville had protested. Harry was sometimes a bit troubled and he was struggling with everything that was going on in his life, but that was normal! He wasn't evil or anything. Moody hadn't wanted to hear his protests. Worst, Moody had started training him, trying to make him catch up to Harry's level. But it didn't work. The more Moody got impatient when he didn't master a spell, the more stressed Neville became. And the less his magic cooperated.

He would have gone to tell Harry about everything, but Moody made him swear an oath of silence. So Neville was stuck and he had been forced to come to the raid, under the security of the Invisibility Cloak, at least.

When Sirius had become trapped inside the shack, he had been terrified. _What else would come to them?_ He'd thought anxiously. But nothing else happened. So Neville had started to relax and went to sit under a tree a bit further away.

He was starting to fall asleep when he heard the sound of an Apparition and saw a furious Dark Lord appear right next to Kingsley, Hestia and Emmeline. When He saw them, he smiled a cruel smirk and attacked them before they could say a word.

Emmeline had fallen first. She wasn't a fighter, she had been brought there to fix up the wards or disengage possible traps. The Dark Lord had made a negligent wave with his wand and she combusted on the spot.

It was the most horrible thing Neville had ever seen in his life. His eyes couldn't leave the spot where she had fallen, not believing that she was gone forever when seconds before she had joked and smiled to Kingsley. The smell of burnt flesh wafted to his nose and he gagged.

His eyes drifted to the violent fighting.

The Dark Lord was dominating the fight. That much was obvious. His face was stretched in a large malicious smile and he was standing tall, his feet firmly on the ground when Hestia and Kingsley had to keep moving and rolling on the ground to dodge his many attacks.

Hestia was bleeding from a deep gash on her side and Kingsley had been severely burnt by a fire whip.

The Dark Lord was...immaculate and in control. He was firing spell after spell at a dazzling pace without showing one sign of fatigue, his long dark hair whipping around him, and there wasn't one burn, one gash, one wound on him, not even a stain on his clothes. Kingsley and Hestia, who were some of the best fighters of the Rebellion, hadn't even managed to touch him with one spell.

When they realised that his shield was too strong for any of their spells to affect him, they changed to a more desperate strategy: Killing curses.

The sheer amount of magic needed to produce a Killing curse explained why wizards and witches tended to only use it as a last resort, or to deliver the killing blow in a duel when they were sure that their adversary wouldn't be able to dodge it.

The Dark Lord didn't bat an eye at this. He dodged the first two green curses in an elegant move and looked as unconcerned as if he was taking a stroll in a park on a sunny day. Then, he lifted his left hand and started to rotate with fingers in an intricate pattern while he was still sending curses after curses to the Rebels. A magical wind picked up and turned around the man. When Hestia's next Killing curse came, it rebounded on strange metal-like shields that had materialised around the Dark Lord.

Voldemort took advantage of his opponent's surprise and in a downwards-slashing movement of his wand, cut Hestia deeply from her left shoulder to her right hip. She let her wand fall as she curled on herself and the Dark Lord, with a scary smile lighting his face, aimed a blow at her head with a simple flick of his wand. It hit her so hard that her body flew to the side a few feet away and her head detached and rolled down the road toward the shack.

Neville saw Sirius appear at the door, his horrified eyes fixed on his ex-girlfriend's head before he turned to the Dark Lord and sent a Killing curse at his back.

The Dark Lord, who had dropped his left hand down after killing Hestia, simply stepped aside and let the Killing curse continue its path and hit Kingsley, who never saw anything coming because he was too focused on his opponent.

The fight with Kingsley obviously over, He turned around to face the newcomer, his face a smooth mask of indifference.

Sirius appeared to be in pain, clutching his arm tightly and shaking like a leaf. His arm had turned black!

The Dark Lord, when he saw this, lowered his wand and strolled leisurely to where Sirius was kneeling on the ground. He stopped at a few feet from him.

"Well, well, well. The 'Black Rebel' at my feet. I never thought I'd see the day", he mocked.

"Shut up, you slimy snake! I'll never submit to you!" hissed Sirius through his teeth.

"Ah, ah, ah. I'm afraid it won't really matter in a couple of minutes. You really shouldn't have shot this Killing curse, you know. You just fed the curse on your arm the best of nectars. You would have been able to live for a few hours more if you hadn't. You could have had time to say good-bye to your dear godson...

-Don't talk about Harry! Stay away from him!

-I'm afraid I'll have to go against your suggestion, Black. You see, I am very interested in meeting him, and something tells me that the feeling is mutual. But tell me, Black, have you told him you loved him today, before you left? Have you ever reassured him that you considered him like the son you never had? You'd better have, you wouldn't want him to think you abandoned him like his parents did to follow your ridiculous little quest against me, right? And poor Harry, left alone in this cruel world... no one to turn to...all vulnerable." The Dark Lord smiled a sinister smirk and cocked his head to the side, seemingly pondering." I think at this point he'd welcome just about anyone's help, no?"

Sirius released a pained whine. Neville then decided that he had to intervene. He slowly moved toward the scene, skirting widely around the bodies of the people he had loved as a family and stopped at some distance at the left of the Dark Lord.

He lifted his wand and stuttered:

"S-Stu..."

His word caught in his throat when he felt something choking him. His eyes widened when he saw the Dark Lord's left hand extended toward him. When He slightly clenched it, Neville felt the pressure around his throat increase.

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed at him. He looked disappointed for a second and then smiled pleasantly.

"Well, well, well, just who do we have here? Another surprise?" He said, his tone mocking.

Sirius turned his eyes in his direction and mouthed at him to go, to leave him, to escape and save himself, but even if Neville wanted to do all that, he couldn't. The hand around his throat kept him firmly in place.

He emitted a weak strangled sound.

"What is the matter, boy, kneazle got your tongue? Here now, let me see you." The Dark Lord had a feral smile before he flicked his wand at Neville. The boy felt a great wind surround him and lift the Cloak over his head.

Voldemort looked surprised, as if he thought Neville would be someone else, and then looked very satisfied of something.

He let his left hand fall and Neville could breath again. The young man bended down, his hands placed on his knees, as he coughed and gasped until he could breath properly again.

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow and looked at him.

"So, who could you possibly be, boy?

-Neville Longbottom, sir" The respectful tone came out of his mouth unwillingly. He glanced toward Sirius, quite ashamed of his behaviour, but the older man was curled in a ball on the ground and looked like he wasn't paying attention to them.

" Come here, Neville, " beckoned the Dark Lord.

Neville shook his head negatively.

" Come on, now, if I wanted to kill you, I'd already have done so, don't you think?" His voice was strangely soft and comforting.

"I don't think it would be a good idea." He answered in what he hoped was a courageous voice.

The Dark Lord sighed, suddenly looking a bit exasperated. He waved his wand again and Neville felt some magical force propelling him at his enemy's side.

The leader of the British Wizarding World then gripped him by the scruff of his neck quite tightly and titled his head to make the young man look at him. When their eyes met, Neville felt a strange intrusion in his mind.

He tried to remember the basics of Occlumency that Moody had started to teach him, but couldn't.

He felt a blinding pain in his head. It was as if an axe had split it open and all his memories were leaving through the gap it made.

Just when he felt like he couldn't take it anymore, the Dark Lord suddenly released him.

"It's an interesting mind you got there, boy. You are cleverer than you seem."

"T-th-thanks, I guess?" stuttered Neville, his head held between his hands in a vain effort to lessen his pain.

Voldemort pondered, looking at him.

"I decided that I wouldn't kill you. Someone needs to go back to the camp and explain the details of what happened, after all."

Neville breathed a sigh of relief.

"However, I can't really let Moody train a second Chosen One to kill me because his first attempt didn't come out like he wanted. I'm sure you understand that."

Neville nodded his head rapidly.

"So I will only require a vow from you. Moody asked that of you anyway, so it's only fair I demand the same, right?"

He nodded again, slower, because he didn't like where this was heading.

"I'm going to ask you to vow to never go against me and to tell Harry about what happened here. It would be too easy for Moody to set him firmly against me by saying I tortured and killed his godfather. You were there, I didn't kill him; the stupid mutt did that himself by putting on a cursed artefact. You would think that a Black would have enough common sense not to commit such a lapse in judgment... Does that seem fair to you?"

As he said that, he kneeled down next to Sirius and tore a ring away from the rebel's hand.

Neville looked at him for a long time, pondering something, and nodded.

"Perfect, so repeat after me: 'I, Neville Longbottom, swear on my magic and my life to never directly or indirectly attack the Dark Lord Voldemort or knowingly go against his plans. I also swear to tell the truth of Sirius Orion Black's death to Harry James Potter.'"

Neville repeated the vows.

"Good, now, you can take the bodies back to your camp if you wish. I have no need for them... I think this one isn't dead yet." He rolled Sirius on his back with his foot and the rebel emitted a feeble groan.

Not saying anything else, he just disappeared on the spot.

Neville looked at where the most powerful man in Britain stood seconds ago and shuddered. He then gathered Sirius in his arms as best he could and disapparated back to the camp.

.

.

I was running; dread filling every pore of my body. I could feel that something had happened, with as much certainty than I could feel my magic cracking and swirling around me.

_Sirius, please be all right, please, please. I'll do anything! I'll go on raids with the rest of the Rebels; I'll kill Voldemort; I'll be the best godson I can ever be, but please, please..._

I arrived at last at the village's infirmary, out of breath. I tore the door open, not caring if it banged on the wall. My eyes fell on a bed. My godfather was on it, looking pale and sweaty, twisting in pain while someone tried to hold him down.

"Sirius! Sirius!" I shouted, panicked.

I ran to his bedside, scanning his body, searching for his injuries.

His shirt was off and I could see that his right arm had become completely black. The burnt area had taken over his shoulder and was slowly spreading to his heart.

"It's still spreading! Why haven't you done anything? He's dying, do something!"

I shouted at the mediwitch that I vaguely recognised as Poppy Pomfrey, who came from time to time when we had medical urgences.

She looked at me with a disapproving frown and opened her mouth, but before she said anything, I heard Sirius make a small gurgle and open his eyes.

"...'ry..." he said.

"Yes, I'm here, Padfoot, hold on!" I grabbed his hand in my own. It was cold and sweaty.

He shook his head feebly.

"...curse...'tis...end...

-No, no, Siri, don't leave me! I need you!"

He coughed a bit, blood dripping from his mouth, wetting his lips. He looked at me, more serious that I've never seen him. My breath caught in my throat. I tightened my grip on his hand.

"...'ry...love...you...son...'kme...proud..."

My eyes filled with water. My vision became blurry. I reached up and wiped my eyes quickly with my sleeve but when I could see again, Sirius was not moving anymore.

My throat clogged, I felt dizzy, and my ears were ringing with a buzzing sound. I looked at my godfather who was lying on his hospital bed, immobile, his eyes fixed on nothing. He didn't look in pain anymore.

I couldn't look away. I stood there, frozen, until a hand entered my field of vision and went to close Sirius' eyes. I exploded.

"Why haven't you saved him?! Isn't it your job to heal people?! If you couldn't heal my godfather then why are you here?!"

I would have continued to shout, but she interrupted me, scolding me with words that I couldn't understand anymore, that didn't register in my brain. I looked at her lips moving continuously and I didn't hear a sound.

Inside of my body, I felt something building up. I started to quiver, my lips pursed tightly together, a low keening sound erupted out of my chest and bubbled up to my lips. I started to blink rapidly; I clenched my fists as hard as I could.

My chest heaved; I started breathing in great gulps of air. My eyes fell shut and the tears poured out of them, running over my face all the way down to my jaw where some of them plummeted to the ground while the rest slid down following the curve of my jaw and wetted the collar of my shirt.

I opened my blurry eyes again to see my godfather still immobile. I placed my head on the mattress next to him and I started to sob uncontrollably.

I vaguely registered at the back of my mind that the mediwitch left the room.

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...

Thank you in advance for reviewing.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I love you guys! You're awesome!

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Chapter 13: Thursday, 8th of April 1997: The Aftermath

I breathed in. I breathed out. I breathed in. I breathed out. I breathed in...

A flash of Sirius' face came to my mind and my heart wrenched painfully. I moaned and got myself back under control. I breathed in. I breathed out.

I thought of everything I hadn't told him before it was too late. I thought of the last breakfast we had shared in tense silence. _What a waste that was; what wouldn't I give to just go back there? I could have told him everything about my doubts, about my plans in life and I'm sure he'd have understood. I could have told him that Tonks was still alive. Why hadn't I? How could I let him suffer through his grief just because I didn't want to confess that I disobeyed and went to Diagon Alley...What kind of horrible monster am I, to hide so much from him when he only did his best to bring me up, to teach me everything he knew_?

With his last breath, he told that he loved me like a son and that he was proud of me. What was the last thing he heard from me? He heard me whining at him selfishly to not leave him. _I am so childish. I need to grow up. I need to stop thinking that the world is revolving around me, to stop wallowing in self-pity. So what if I've got 'a Task' that I don't want to carry out? At least I was loved; at least I wasn't alone. Like I am now._

I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts. _No more self-pity, I said._

I heard someone knock on the door downstairs. In the past few days, people in the village had come and brought me food to show their support.

As far as I was concerned, I didn't have any link with them anymore. They sent Sirius on that stupid mission to find ridiculous 'objects' and they got him killed. Who cares about fucking objects? Even if they were made of pure mithril, I would still say that it was a complete waste of time and an unnecessary risk. My godfather's life was worth more than that.

I got up and slowly made my way downstairs. When I opened the door, the light of the sun blinded me for a few seconds. I hadn't left the house for the past five days. I hadn't done anything for the past five days. It was the longest training break I'd ever taken since I was about twelve.

Moody was at the door. He probably wanted to talk to me about my stupid training, in fact.

"What?" I said, a bit grumpy.

"You look like shit, Potter."

I huffed a humourless laugh.

"See if I care."

"Potter, let me come in. I need to talk to you."

I moved aside, letting him pass next to me.

"You need a shower, boy."

"See if I care," I repeated.

He looked at me closely. I had no idea what he was trying to see. I lifted an eyebrow at him. Moody's magical eye whizzed around. I didn't know what it was trying to spot. I didn't care to know either. I exhaled noisily and slammed the door behind him. I shuffled to the living room.

"I'd offer some tea, but I really don't want you to stay longer than necessary."

He narrowed his eyes at me. I huffed again and dropped back on the sofa.

"Cut the drama act, Potter. I'm not here to watch your theatrics."

"Right. I'll just forget that my godfather just died on your orders...

-He didn't. That's what I came to tell you." he interrupted me, still watching me closely.

"You were gone that day..." he began.

"What if I was?" I cut in, defiant.

"Your godfather panicked. He thought you'd been captured. He didn't tell me anything, he just gathered Vance, Jones and Shacklebolt, thinking it was enough, and he headed out. And he got killed because you were a moronic rebellious teen who wanted out of your life for a day.

-Where did he go, then?" I said, my heart pounding even if I didn't believe Moody for a second. _What is he doing? Why is he lying to me?_

"What do you mean?

-How did he follow me? What was his plan? Where did he head?

-He followed your Apparition trace...

-I didn't apparate" I interrupted him, trying to catch him in his lie.

"Ok, you didn't apparate. As I told you, he didn't tell me his plan before he left. I don't know how he tried to follow you, but maybe he didn't. Maybe he just...concluded the worst, and went to the Dark Lord's lair.

-Sirius saw that I was absent for 4 hours, and concluded I was trapped in the Dark Lord's fortress?

-Yeah, that fool loved you too much and got worried. So he went there and got his whole team killed by Voldemort."

I clenched my jaw tightly in anger.

"Cut the crap, Moody. You and I both know he wouldn't have done that. He went with a team on a mission you gave him, and they all died because you had underestimated the risks. He told me about it before he left. Don't try to make me wear the blame. Don't use my godfather's death to guilt me into being a good little minion like the rest of them...You disgust me." The last words had slipped from my mouth involuntarily.

I saw surprise flash in his eyes before he started laughing at me. I could feel the ire rising in me at every sound that came out of that ugly mouth.

"You see, Potter, that's what I don't like about you. You learn a couple of facts and you always come up with the wrong conclusions. Everyone is here, tripping over his arse to train you and help you, and that's how you repay us? By making hasty judgments about things that you don't understand, about questions that are so far beyond your comprehension... You're like a newcomer trying to play the game without knowing the rules. It's a war, Potter. I'm a war general. I send people on missions, and sometimes they die. That's my job. That's the reality of it. Casualties are part of this business. And you were damn lucky you weren't touched by this harsh reality before.

_There could be peace now if you wanted it, Moody. You are the one unnecessarily prolonging the war to cling to your post of general..._

-And why did you lie to me just now?" I asked, still suspicious.

"Damn stubborn boy you are. 'Knew you wouldn't believe it for a second. But maybe it would have gotten you to think about your share of responsibility in this war. All you've done so far is sitting on your arse making other people work for you.

-I've never been allowed on meetings...

-Because you godfather wanted to shield from reality all the time! If it was just for me, you'd have gotten in those goddamned meetings when you were fourteen, you were that good.

_It sure didn't sound that way from where I saw sitting. Or did I imagine all the insults you said against me? What was it again? I was lazy and incompetent? Too impressionable? Too immature?_

"I'm not sure I want to go to the meetings at the moment... I'm not even seventeen..."

I waited to see if he'd say something about Neville having been on them for the last two years.

"Well, kid. With our best fighters down, we really need your help on raids or maybe some of us will get hurt.

-How about not going on raids anymore then, if you keep getting hurt for nothing?"

He went red. I saw a vein on his forehead that looked like it was about to burst. _Ha, now he's getting riled up._

"Are you suggesting that we give up the war? Everything we've worked for in the last twelve years or so?

-If it's for nothing, then yes. It looks to me as if He's not doing that bad of a job. When you walk around outside these wards, you can see that people are happy. They even seem to think that it's us who are the 'bad guys'...

-What about the Muggles?

-What do you mean? What about them?" I asked, unsettled by the sudden question.

"Do you condone Muggle hunting? Muggle baiting?

-Of course I don't! But what does it have to do with anything?

-Well, under this regime that you like so much, Muggles have the same status as animals. In fact, the only point where the law distinguishes Muggles from them is with the case of Muggleborns. And even then, they're just considered as 'potential breeders'.

-What? I've never heard of that!

-Of course you haven't. It's not exactly 'proclaimed in the streets'. You have to be able to read between the lines. It's just as everything Voldemort does: It's insidious."

_Maybe I was wrong about everything, again. Maybe the Rebels did have a point_. I saw from the corner of my eyes Moody looking suddenly eager, like a cat that caught a mouse in a corner and was about to pounce on it.

"He killed your godfather, you know that, kid? I wasn't joking about that part earlier. He killed all of them...Vance, Jones, Shacklebolt. And he was laughing when he slaughtered them."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He had looked too happy to reveal that to me.

"How do you know? Were you there?

-No, but Neville was." _That's true; I should ask him what really happened._

-You expect me to believe that Neville got out of it alive when the others didn't?" I asked in an incredulous tone of voice, even though I knew the Neville had my Cloak.

"He stayed hidden to make sure someone would be able to tell me what happened.

-You mean, he was scared shitless, hid and watched the others get killed without lifting a finger to help them?" By now, I was pissed off. _Moody is always twisting the truth to present it the way that would advantage him best..._

"Well, kid, I'm just saying what happened. No need to take out your anger on me. Gotta save some of that for the Dark Lord, right?

-Yeah, of course. Sorry." I visibly deflated and apologised in a droning voice.

-It's all right, kid. Just think about what I've said, ok? We could use your help in raids."

He patted me on the knee in a condescending way, got up and left me there. I stayed on the sofa, thinking through the conversation.

.

"Wow. I still can't believe he tried to make me feel guilty for Sirius' death. Even if he said it was some sort of tactical move and that he knew I'd see it, it's still such a wrong thing to lie about. If I hadn't spied on them, I really couldn't have known that there was a mission planned for today.

_-What about what he said with the Muggles?"_ asked my subconscious.

"Well, I already had my doubts that not everything in the Dark Lord's government was sunshine and rainbows. No regime is perfect.

-_Aren't you a bit too dismissive there? Muggles are people. Do you really condone what Moody said about how they are treated like animals?_

-I'm sure it's not as bad as he said it. But yeah, I know. It's not right. But is that sufficient ground to try to destroy everything else in the regime, to sacrifice all the fighters in this village to try to overtake it?

_-Are you sure you're not just trying to get out of your responsibility, of your 'Task' because you're scared that the Dark Lord will kill you if you oppose him?_

-Merlin, Subconscious, are you kidding me? It's a suicide mission. Nothing else. Do you blame me for not wanting to die over a misunderstanding about Muggles?

.

My silent conversation with myself was interrupted by a timid knock on the door. _Again? I'm definitely popular today._

I heaved myself off the couch laboriously. My limbs were as heavy as lead.

I shuffled back to the entrance door and opened it. Nobody was there. I immediately became alert, focusing on the spot in front of the door and whipping out my wand. My magical sight picked up something in front of me, but before I could do anything about it, I heard it say:

"Harry, it's me, Neville, let me in!" _Neville? Ah, of course, he still has my Invisibility Cloak._

I opened the door wider and let the other come in. When Neville was inside, he took off the Cloak, giving it back to me. I looked at him; he really didn't seem healthy. His boyish face had taken a grey tone and he looked like he hadn't slept or taken a shower in five days. _That's probably how I look as well._

"What a coincidence. I wanted to talk to you as well. You just spared me the effort of a trip to your house." I said inexpressively.

"Ah, yes, uh..."

I lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed by his eloquence.

"Come on in, then"

I went back to my seat on the couch and he followed, his head bent down. I looked at him; he gulped.

"What now? Don't tell me I'm scaring you...

-No, I just...really don't want to talk about what I saw the other day." He admitted, looking a bit green.

-So why are you here?" I knew I was too harsh on Neville, but I really wasn't in a patient mood at the moment. I felt another pang of loss when my mind wandered to what had happened to put me in such a state.

"The Dark Lord, he...he made me promise I'd tell you.

-What! You spoke with the Dark Lord!" I said, incredulously (and secretly a bit jealously).

"Yeah... hum...well...he mostly just looked in my head and made me take an oath that forced me to tell you.

-Tell me what?

-That he wasn't the one to kill your godfather. He said Sirius should have known better than to put on a cursed magical artefact, with his family and all...you know. He made me vow I'd tell you because he thought Moody would lie to you about it."

I sat there, thinking over it.

"Why would Sirius just put on a cursed artefact?" I asked him.

"I don't know. I didn't see what happened inside the house.

-Which house?

-Moody didn't tell you what happened? I thought that's what he just did...

-No, Moody came here to lie in my face as much as he could and try to exploit my godfather's death to his advantage."

I released a long breath; feeling quite tired suddenly. I rubbed my forehead.

"So, why don't you tell me what happened then? From the beginning."

"Well, we went on a mission and we arrived at this really creepy shack which supposedly belonged to the Dark Lord's ancestors...but then, when Sirius got in, the wards activated and Sirius was trapped inside! We tried to undo them, but Emmeline said they were blood wards, so that we couldn't do anything. And then we waited, and then, out of nowhere, the Dark Lord just popped in looking furious! And he just killed Emmeline like that! Boom! One flick and she was dead! They didn't even get a chance to explain what they were doing and try to negotiate a surrender, nothing!"

_That's also what I think would happen if I ever meet him...He'd kill me without a thought. Like I was an annoying fly..._

"And then, Hestia and Kingsley, they started to duel him, but he was so much better than them and he could block Killing curses! He could block them! And he could do wandless magic! And then he got Hestia and oh, it was horrible, her head detached from her body! And then, Sirius came out and he looked all wounded and in pain and he sent a Killing curse to the Dark Lord but he missed and it killed Kingsley!

And then, I don't know why, but Sirius fell on the ground and he looked in pain and the Dark Lord talked with him...I can't remember everything they said..."

I wanted to scream in frustration. This was potentially vital information I was losing! I just took a deep breath, though, and told him to take his time, that it would all come back.

"Okay...well...the Dark Lord said something strange about feeding a curse with a Killing curse? I didn't really get it. And then he got all weird and started talking about you. And Sirius shouted at him to stay away from you and He said for some reason that he really wanted to meet you and that he thought it was mutual?

-He's probably referring to my 'Task', you know. That he'd be looking forward to kill me, or something..."

Neville looked at me for a moment, his lips pursed.

"I don't think so, somehow...It didn't seem like that...

-Hem...can you continue the story?

-Oh, yeah, okay...hum, where was I? Okay, so, he's all like: I hope you said goodbye to your godson before you left...and then he said something about loving you...

-What, wait, what?" I interrupted him, confused and blushing a bit.

"He said that Sirius loved you like a son and that he should have told you that before he died because he abandoned you...like your parents did?"

I froze. _That's what Sirius told me before he died. The Dark Lord told him he should say that? I don't know what to think of that. Really..._

"And then I tried to attack the Dark Lord, but it didn't really work, so he choked me and I was stuck there. And then he searched my thoughts and he said I was cleverer than I looked! The Dark Lord said that! And then he made me do the oath and that's it.

-That's it? He just let you go like that?

-Yeah, he said something about not needing the bodies and that I should bring back Sirius because he wasn't dead yet...or something like that."

I paused, thinking about what I heard. It didn't sound like the Dark Lord had wanted to kill Sirius. It sounded as if the Dark Lord would have spared Sirius for my sake... but why?

"Oh, yes, I forgot. Something weird happened when the Dark Lord discovered I was there. It was almost like he thought I was someone else and was disappointed to have caught me so easily...I don't know why though...

-I don't know either, Neville." I sighed.

_Now I'm even more confused than before. Is the Dark Lord trying to lure me into a trap? Does he think he can make me drop my 'Task'? Why would he even bother? I bet he's just trying to mess with my head..._

.

I heard Neville say in the background that he was going back to his gardening, but I didn't really reply. When he was gone, I got up and went to the living's room window. I looked outside at the village in which I grew up. Magic made it clean, magic expanded the space in the houses, magic repaired roofs and broken windows. If it weren't for it, this place would probably look like a slum.

_Those people are all adults who made their choices and decided to form a Rebellion...but the children are forced to live with the consequences of their parents' choices, and, when they reach a certain age, they are pressured into joining the movement as well. This isn't healthy. _

_Neville was fifteen when he had to go to the meetings and sixteen when he was forced to go in a dangerous mission where everyone else in his team got killed in front of him. This isn't fair. _

_Moody is a sick person and if I can contribute to the end of the Rebellion by sending out information, even if this information might get some of those adults killed, it will be worth it, for the sake of the children growing up here._

_I'll give them the freedom of choice Neville and I never had._

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Voilà! I hope you liked it!

Next chapter will have some action again and will be a pivotal point in the story.

Thank you in advance for reviewing!

Don't hesitate, really, even if you are only guests you can easily review here and you'll get some love and gratitude from me, I guarantee it!


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yayyy! 150 reviews! Thank you again to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed! You are all motivating me to continue with this story!

AureliaPheonixAnastasia: Ha! 8th of April 1997 is your birthday? Nice! I choose my boyfriend's birthday (although not the year) as Victory Day (3rd of April). I needed a random date and thought it would be a funny inside joke :P

autumngold: We have just seen Moody's ruthless side...But does that really make him an evil overlord? One of the aims of my story is to have no absolute evil and no absolute good. Even Harry has his moments of self-justification and self-serving morality. The Dark Lord isn't exactly sunshine and daisies either, you'll see :P

That said, enjoy!

Warnings: a wee bit of violence and mentions of torture.

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Chapter 14: 20th of July 1997: To be a Malfoy

Over the past few months, I had begun leaking information to the Aurors.

When I went at the library last time, I had gotten a couple of ideas on how to pass information without an owl and without having to send them a Patronus that Tonks would immediately recognise.

The first idea with which I came up was to transfigure something into an owl and send it away with my message. The only problem was that inanimate to animate transfigurations took a lot of power to sustain for a long time, and even more when it was from a long distance, like it would be if I sent the owl away. They were also notably defective and I couldn't risk my message getting in the wrong hands.

I passed through a couple of other theories before I found the right one.

I began with the concept of magical paper planes kids used to exchange notes in class. The Ministry also used them to send messages within their building. It was a pretty simple charm at the basis, but what if I could just...make it stronger? More durable? Widen the range? I had to do a couple of tests, but in the end, I got pretty good results.

When the next raid was planned, I sent my paper plane out and crossed my fingers. I had made it untraceable as best as I could and had disguised my handwriting just in case, but what if they could still track it back to me somehow?

The Rebels came back earlier than planned, and furious. I kept myself out of the way that day and acted as if I was surprised of the outcome. Inside, I was beaming with joy. Not only had my idea for transmitting messages worked, but the Aurors had also believed the information I gave them!

I continued to carefully spy on their meetings. I knew they thought there was a traitor in our ranks, but since I wasn't at the meetings in the first place, I was out of the list of suspects.

By now, the only reason why I stayed was because of the information I could send out. I knew that it wasn't a long-term solution, that I'd be discovered soon enough. It would only take one mistake from my part and they'd discover that I was spying on their meetings. And if they did, they would immediately jump to the right conclusion and stop searching for their traitor.

My plan was to stay until I was considered an adult in the outside world. Then, I wouldn't have to worry about being adopted, fostered or emancipated. Who would want to take care of the Boy-Who-Betrayed-Us-All anyway?

I had begun my preparations. Subtly. Sorting through my stuff inside the house, burning whatever traces I'd left that could give a hint of what I'd planned. Setting up a will. Yes, a will, because I inherited whatever frozen funds Sirius had in his bank vaults at Gringotts and I had to designate an heir for the Potter and the Black vaults. I chose Neville for the Potter vault, not because I particularly liked him, but because I really didn't know many people anyway, and I chose Tonks for the Black vault, because she was part of that family already.

I stacked some non-perishable food in the house, because I knew that my emergency money wouldn't last for long. I wrote down everything I knew about the Rebels and their organisation; the members, the goals, the deals and debts they had: everything I could remember. That way, if I knew I was going to die, I could just send that in one big go to the Ministry. Or I could use them as a trade for my freedom if the Aurors captured me. I just didn't think I'd last that long out there, not with the all-powerful Dark Lord wanting me dead.

What I hadn't counted on, though, was just how cunning Moody would be. I think he tried to narrow down who the traitor could be by providing false information to small groups of people at a time and then by checking if the Aurors would show up at the false lead. When his round of testing ended, he must have concluded that nobody took the risk to transmit information when it wasn't provided to everyone. And my guess is that he began to plan with a small group he particularly trusted because, when the next big raid arrived, I learnt about after it was over.

It was on a rainy summer evening on the 20th of July. I had just completed a running session and was heading back to my house when I heard a great clamour in the center of the village. I went closer to check what happened when I saw a group of Rebels pulling someone in a shed where we used to keep our pigs in the winter, laughing and shouting at the top of their lungs "We got him! We got him! We did it! Haha!" When the person they were pulling along slid on the muddy ground and fell, the laughing started back again and they kicked him in the ribs before pulling him back up. "What's the matter, pretty boy? You can't walk on anything else than marble floors? Ha! Don't worry, we'll put you in a real nice place, you'll see, you'll feel right at home!"

They opened the doors to the shed and threw the prisoner inside. Then they started to put up wards and to temporarily solidify the building.

I hadn't seen much of the prisoner, except for a glimpse of platinum blond hair plastered on his head, but I could already guess who he was from pictures I'd seen of his father and him at official functions. It was Draco Malfoy, the Minister's son.

.

oOoOo

20th of July, earlier that day, Malfoy Manor

Draco wasn't in a good mood. He was in a horrendous mood, in fact. It was raining outside and that meant that his long-planned game of Quidditch with some of his allies (Malfoys don't have friends) was cancelled. Oh, he would have played if it was just a light drizzle, but it was a real downpour out there! And there's no way he'd go and catch a cold just days before the mid-summer Ministry ball. He had to always project an immutable and collected image after all; it wouldn't do to show up with a runny nose.

So Draco had sent his acquaintances away and found himself, once again, all alone in his luxurious Manor, as always. He held back a sigh and headed to his bedroom to work on his summer assignments. He was starting his last year at Hogwarts; he was at the very top of his classes (if you forgot about that damned Mudblood who didn't want to learn her place), the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and the most likely candidate for Head Boy. Things were going quite well for him, over all.

If Draco had one complaint about his lifestyle (which he hadn't, because Malfoys always had perfect lives), it was that he was bored often. But it was okay to be bored; really, it was a common thing among rich people. The plebs couldn't afford the luxury of boredom. They had to work to earn their living...

Draco's reflections on the workings of social classes brutally came to a stop when he suddenly heard the ground trembling under his feet and a window shatter in an adjacent room.

_Is the Manor attacked? But it has some of the strongest wards and protections in the country!_

He thought of the layout of the Manor for a second before running to the nearest Floo-connected fireplace. There was no way he'd go investigate the cause of the explosion by himself. He wasn't a bloody Gryffindor, for Salazar's sake!

He pivoted on his feet, heading back to the main parlour. Draco took out his wand, Disillusioned himself and silenced his feet. He moved swiftly, sweeping his field of vision continuously in search of potential invisible enemies.

Everything became suddenly silent. The hallway was only lit sparsely, as it was charmed to do if the wards collapsed.

When Draco arrived close to the door of the parlour, he whispered _Homenum revelio_ to check if the attackers had reached that room. He barely had time to register the red colour resulting from his charm, meaning that there were indeed people in there, before something hit the back of his head and he saw stars. He crumbled, his forehead bashing in the door in front of him in his fall. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a grinning face and a blue eye whizzing around madly.

.

20th of July, a shed in the Rebels' camp

At first, Draco had been furious. _How dare those vulgar rebels come and capture him!_ Of course, he understood the tactical move. He was a Slytherin and the son of the Minister of Magic, after all.

Then, he had been worried. The young man looked around him at the shed and could immediately see that his captors really needed the money of the ransom they were probably going to ask for him. But somehow, he doubted that money was all they would ask for. They would probably try to bargain for...a Ministry pardon for all of those who wanted out? No, they probably wouldn't have roughed him up if they wanted his father to grant them a favour. Or they wouldn't have if they were intelligent, which wasn't clearly established as of yet. But anyway, anyone with a modicum of sense knew that you didn't hurt your hostages before you made your demands. You only tortured them after the demands were refused, or if the rich person didn't pay the ransom quickly enough. Draco released a breath he didn't know he was holding. At least he was safe for a while, until the negotiations with his father started.

.

21st of July, a shed in the Rebels' camp

No, they definitely weren't intelligent captors. Moody (aka Undesirable Number One) and another beefy guy just exited his 'cell' after hours of torture. Apparently, they thought it would be hilarious to ask him a very vague question about the Dark Lord and torture him when they didn't like what they heard. It really wasn't an effective method when the willing prisoner didn't even understand the question to which he had to answer. Or, at least, it was a good tactic if all you wanted to do was break your captive, but not so much if you actually wanted information, like they seemed to.

The big question they asked him was: "Tell us about the Dark Lord's life."

Where to begin? Draco had seen the Dark Lord often enough throughout the years, but he had never really sat down with the man to ask him questions about his life choices or his previous careers. Of course he hadn't. Nobody knew much about the Dark Lord's life, not even those who had followed him for most of theirs. Draco had told all of that to the Rebels, but they somehow didn't seem to appreciate the truth of it. And Moody might look old and a bit senile, but he could pack a mean _Crucio_ when he wanted to.

When they got fed up with their stupid questions, they left, locking him in a makeshift cell in the most disgusting corner of the shed. The whole place stank of animal dung and there were no furniture anywhere, not even a chamberpot for him. He shuddered at the thought of spending the next few days (or more!) and it jarred the injuries in his body, making him moan in pain. He looked around again. Even if the shed in itself looked a bit fragile, the wards around the cell were pretty strong, from what he could see of them: An Anti-Animagus ward here, Anti-Portkey there, Anti-Apparition this way, Anti-Physical Exit that way. He couldn't escape in any way he could think of, and nobody could break him out that easily either. _Well, there goes that hope_, he thought, sighing in his head. He laid his head on a stone and hoped to sleep away the tremors in his body.

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Voilà! I hope you liked this chapter! That one and the next are stepping stones for the rest of the story.

Next chapter will have some DM/HP interaction. For Draco's personality, I tried to find a balance between making him intelligent and spoilt. Tell me how you like him!

Thank you in advance for reviewing! It's so appreciated! You guys are awesome, as always! :D


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yeah! Lots of enthusiastic answers to the last chapter, I love it! Thank you so much for reviewing everyone! Thank you to everyone who have been following this from the start and who have commented often! The support is really appreciated!

I also really liked that there were a few new names as well in there! So, people who read and like this story, but haven't reviewed yet, don't be shy, even if you are afraid of making mistakes in the review or something of the kind, it doesn't matter. I don't bite and I like short and sweet reviews just as much as I like long and a bit random ones (does somebody recognise himself here? ;) hehe)

By the by, I really don't see Harry and Draco together as anything else than friends in this story. I like the pairing, but this is a solid HPLV, as you will see in a few chapters ;) Ouhhhh.

Warnings: mention of torture and a bit of violence

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Chapter 15: 21st of July, the Rescue

When Draco opened his eyes again the shed was bathed in a pale grey light. A couple of the weird spheres left by the rebels after his interrogation were still spread around the space, but their glim was dull; the spells that lighted them were probably nearly drained by now. He estimated that he had slept a few hours, three or four, at most. A strange shift in the magic surrounding him had woken him up. He lifted his head just in time to see the door of the shed open.

_There you go. Ready for round two?_ His body was aching everywhere and one of his eyes was swollen. He wasn't looking forward to a repeat of earlier.

_There goes my perfect face for the Ministry ball_, he thought a bit hysterically.

The door closed rapidly without anybody entering. Draco saw an alarm ward being placed on top of the door from the inside. Someone was here. He narrowed his eyes and could barely make out with his magical sight a trace of something floating in the air. He should have listened to his father more and train his sight better when he was younger, or at least keep up with it more assiduously. He listened closely and heard a slight panting, as if the intruder was out of breath.

_Why is he invisible? Could it be the traitor Rebel?_

His father had told him all about it. Apparently, his captors were so bad at rebelling that even people of their own base wanted out. The Ministry had suddenly started a couple of months ago to get free information on most of the Rebel raids in the form of weird paper planes.

_And I'll get to see the identity of this informant before anyone else. Oh joy._

The air rippled and an Invisibility Cloak was lifted. Beneath it was a young man of about his age with dark hair and bright green eyes. He seemed more muscular than most wizards, in a sinewy way, and his eyes were steeled with determination.

On his forehead was etched a lightning shaped scar. Draco would have gasped in surprise, but Malfoys don't gasp and he didn't want to give his surprise away, so he just inhaled a fraction faster than he normally would have. The Boy-Who-Lived! The Dark Lord had enquired about him for the past few years and he had been in the Rebel's camp all that time? HE was their spy?

_Oh...sweet Salazar, this is priceless! The Light is really doomed now!_ He thought gleefully.

Draco knew that a lot of people in the Wizarding World were still desperately waiting for the Boy-Who-Lived to come back, work his magic and 'rid the world of the Dark', or some hippogriph dung of the sort. _Well, they'd be quite surprised if they knew what I see now..._

On the outside, however, Draco didn't show any reaction to the young man's appearance. He lifted an eyebrow and kept his cold mask, waiting to see what the other would do.

Harry Potter glanced around the dirty shed, his lips tightening in disapproval. Then he looked at him, detailing him or maybe his injuries.

"You are Draco Malfoy." Stated the teenager in firm voice.

"Indeed I am. I would get up to properly welcome you in my humble abode, but I'm afraid my legs are a bit shaky after all the Cruciatus of earlier...And you are?"

Potter swore under his breath and kneeled on the ground. He brought a bag down from his back and began rummaging in it. What he was searching for turned out to be a vial of Potions that he handed to him. Draco took it with shaky fingers (he probably could have stopped himself from shaking, but why would he, when it worked so well to make Potter furious at the rest of the clan?) and sniffed it delicately. He recognised a poor quality Draught of Peace. _It's still better than nothing_, he thought as he drowned it.

"So," he asked after he finished it, his shaking abating slightly, "I didn't catch your name earlier, I'm afraid."

"Hadrian Black." replied the other. _Interesting choice of names, not exactly what I would have chosen in his situation, though._

"Any relation to the infamous Sirius Black?"

"He was my father," said Harry Potter in a curt voice. _Was?_ _Ahhh, yes, I had forgotten about Black's recent death, that's right._

"My sympathies for your loss. May his soul promptly return to Magic and find peace in the afterlife."

Harry Potter, or Hadrian Black as he called himself, refocused on him abruptly and scrutinised him again.

"You know what? You're the first one to say that to me. All the others, they just skirted around the issue for a couple of months and kept quiet. So...thank you."

He sent a small smile to Draco, his eyes a bit sad. _What do you know? A Gryffindor thanking a Slytherin...but you're not exactly a Gryffindor, are you, Potter?_

"So, Black, not that I don't find this conversation charming or anything, but why are you here?

-I'm busting you out." _There won't be a round two of torture for me, then. Thank you Morgana and Mordred for this blessing. _He had to restrain himself from sighing in relief and keeping his indifferent façade.

"Good, good. And...Why are we wasting time with small talk when we should be...or at least I should be, running away?

-We have to wait a bit because I used up a lot of my magic to bend the wards without breaking them to be able to enter here unnoticed. I'm just catching my breath, I'll be good to go soon, don't worry."

Draco looked at the other man, flabbergasted.

"You bend the front door's wards? And you 'just' need to catch your breath a bit before you go? I thought they let you enter, that's why your whole escape scenario didn't impress me! Didn't they see the door open though? Don't they know that someone entered?

-No, I used an illusion on the front door to make it look like it didn't move...

- And you think you can break both the wards on my cell and those at the door afterwards?" _Just how powerful is Potter to be able to manipulate wards like that? _

"Yeah, but I'll probably need to sleep a lot to compensate. I'll just head to bed as soon as you're busted out.

-Potte...entially dangerous, Black." He caught his slip of tongue just in time. "Don't you think they'll know it was you?

-Yeah, maybe. I wanted to leave this place soon anyway, so I'll just go earlier than planned, tomorrow morning, maybe. Like I said, I'll need some sleep after breaking these wards. I won't exactly be 'up for the next adventure' five minutes after you're gone.

-Black, why don't you escape with me? You can stay at my manor for a couple of days. It's the least I can do to repay you for this." _And the Dark Lord would kill me if I let this occasion pass without bringing you to him. _He felt a pang of remorse at the thought of selling the Boy-Who-Lived to the Dark Lord right after he rescued him.

"Me? Stay at Malfoy Manor?" He asked in an incredulous voice.

"Of course, my mother is a Black as well, remember. We're cousins! I'm sure she'd be delighted to meet you. Family is important in troubled times, after all."

He saw Potter bite his lips, thinking it over. As Harry Potter, he'd have quite a good excuse to not want to go with him, but as Hadrian Black, like he introduced himself, there were no reasons why he wouldn't accept the offer.

"But...what about my status as a Rebel?

-You're the one who sent the paper planes, right?

-Yes...

-My father said that he'd get the informant a pardon if he could find out his identity. You won't get into any trouble from the Ministry; I can guarantee you that." _I don't know about the Dark Lord though..._

Potter took a deep breath and nodded.

"Perfect! And you know, if you need help with the wards, I can do some work as well. You face the right side of the wards to get me out of the cell, but not to leave the shed after. You could lend me your wand; my magic is still strong and I have a lot of training with wards...

-Are you kidding? You think I'd give my wand to someone I just met?

-Hey, I had to try. It could have worked with the other Rebels from what I've seen of their intelligence...

-Right, right," said Potter, shaking his head. " As long as I don't do more magic, I'll be fine since I've got a Pepper-Up. I would have liked to give it to you in case you were too tired to run, but hey, gotta save my hide first, what do you say?" He said in a teasing tone.

"I say that we might just make a Slytherin out of you, Black. It's in your blood, after all."

Harry laughed and Draco's heart felt lighter. _Was this how friendship felt like? _The thought flitted through his mind before the blood painfully pulsing in his swollen eye brought him back to a grimmer reality.

_By all that is dark, I'll make those rebels pay for what they have done to me. And wait until my father hears about my treatment here! He'll be furious. He'll burn this dump to the ground and massacre everyone who even dared to lay a finger on me!_

He distractedly saw the green-eyed teen get up and go at the opening in the wall (he refused to call such a substandard hole a window) to watch something. It was quite close to the new moon so it was very dark outside. They would have to be careful not to trip on roots in the woods. He suddenly turned to Draco and announced in a voice full of authority:

"It's time."

Draco got up painfully to his feet, leaning on the dirty wall behind him. The Draught of Peace hadn't been so effective. He would have needed that Pepper-Up, damn it. He had only been a prisoner for about a day, but now that salvation was at arm's length, he found that he couldn't bear to stay in this miserable shed for one more minute. His whole body was nearly shaking in anticipation.

He focused his attention on Potter who was breathing deeply. When Harry opened his eyes, they were glowing with his magical sight. _Salazar, he's further than I ever was with it. He must have trained it a lot._

His eyes were sweeping over the structure of the wards, searching for weaker points. When he found one, he started to turn his wand around in small circles, alternatively pulling and pushing.

_His technique is a bit rudimentary on the actual ward breaking, though. His training must not be very uniform if he has just been tutored in the camp. It must have focused on ward identification and ward building more than on their destruction. I have to help him a bit or he'll just waste his magic on this ward and won't have enough strength for the other._

Draco cleared his throat and said to Harry: "Try to make more cutting movements after your second flick and use the _Excisus_ charm at every corner of the hole you want to make."

The Malfoy heir saw the other teen's movements falter a bit before he nodded and tried the suggested approach.

Within moments, Draco felt the ward against Physical Exit shatter. Harry bended in half for a few seconds and got back up quickly, breathing deeply. _Damn, I'd be more tired than that if I were at his place._

Draco exited his cell as quickly as he could with the Malfoy poise and a hurting body and looked back in, quite happy if this was the last he saw of it. He turned back to Harry.

"You ok?

-Yeah... yeah. Thanks for the technique. I'm better at identifying weak points and letting someone else do the actual breaking. I should have studied it more in depth, though, it's too useful to neglect."

Draco looked at him, eyes narrowing as he thought over something.

"It was you, wasn't it? In Diagon Alley?

-What? How do you know about that?

-My father did quite a bit of overwork trying to find the culprit. They got a partial magical imprint from what you did. They concluded that you used way too much magical power and did a sloppy job of it... By Salazar, you were what? Fifteen?

-Just about...I didn't exactly plan on intervening that day. They forced my hand."

Draco tried to think about how he would have acted at fifteen in such a situation.

_I wouldn't have intervened at all. I would have curled up in a corner, put my arms over my head and waited for my father to come rescue me, but that's Saint Potter for you. He might act strangely Slytherin from time to time but he most likely has a Gryffindor core._

-So...are you ready to go now?" asked the Malfoy heir, impatient to get out of there.

"Yeah. It was much easier with your technique; I'll be fine for the other wards. Do you want the Pepper-Up? You look a bit weak."

Draco glared at his comment, straightened himself up and lifted his nose a bit.

"It's this horrible place that's getting to me, a Malfoy doesn't look weak. But yes, I'll take the Pepper-Up..."

Harry rolled his eyes at him and handed him the vial. He sniffed at it subtly. _Eurk, another potion of poor quality. Severus would strangle me if he knew what I ingested. Well, it's better than nothing._

He downed it, using all the power of his Malfoy mask to not make a disgusted face. _That's not how it was supposed to taste, that's for sure._ He nodded his thanks to Harry, who turned toward the door and the wards.

"When the wards are down, I'll Disillusion myself and you'll wear the Cloak. I won't bother with the illusion of the door, this time, since they'll notice immediately that the wards will have collapsed. I'll take your hand and you're not pulling it out of my grip before we're out of the wards, got it? You could get lost in the woods surrounding the village.

-Got it."

Harry took a deep breath and attacked the wards with his new technique. Draco could see the sweat slowly forming on his rescuer's brow and looked at the wards. He put on the Cloak. They wouldn't have much time to get out before the whole camp descended on them.

The wards shattered with a loud noise. Harry breathed deeply, hit himself on the head for the Disillusionment spell and took Draco's hand in his now clammy one. He opened the door quickly, and exited, pulling Draco after him. Draco pulled the Cloak tighter on himself when he saw some Rebels running towards them, shooting stunning spells left and right. Harry pulled him at cover behind the shed and headed from there to the woods at a brisk pace, passing through the branches and reaching a path easily in the dark.

Draco turned back to throw a last look at the camp behind. The wizards had switched to _Homenum revelio_ and cast them in an ever-expanding range. Some of them were running towards the woods on the main paths.

Harry pulled on his hand to make him go faster. Draco's elbow hurt at the tension and he tripped on a root, barely catching himself in time before falling face first. _Thank you Quidditch for preparing me for this ordeal._ He wouldn't have been able to bear the mud, the pain and the exhaustion without it.

When they were at a good distance from the camp, Harry muttered, "screw this" and let his Disillusionment fall. He turned to Draco and told him: "Take off the Cloak, we have to leave the wards before they reach them and decide to do a lock down. I don't think I'd be able to break us out of that if it happens. We need to run."

Draco took the Cloak off hastily and ran, following Harry's lead. It was obvious that the other knew exactly where he was going. He zigzagged through the trees and Draco had trouble keeping up with him in his damaged state. His lungs burnt and every step jarred his injuries. They weren't anything life threatening, but they hurt, Circe!

.

After a few minutes, at last, they could see the wards. They were about to reach them when they heard: "Expelliarmus!"

Harry dived to the left, rolling on the ground and getting back to his feet swiftly, his wand aimed at their attacker's head.

"Neville?" Harry said in a surprised voice.

A boy was standing, his back to the wards, the wand pointed at them shaking a bit.

"I can't let you go, Harry.

-Why not, Neville?" Harry replied in a strained tone, taking a couple of steps aggressively towards the other boy. The plumb boy stood his ground, not budging an inch.

"Because, we need Malfoy. We need him to finish the war. His father will sign a peace treaty to have him back." He revealed with certainty.

Draco snorted at the idea. _As if the Dark Lord would let his father do that._

"Moody told you that, right? He lied. They tortured Draco for information. They don't want a peace treaty unless it's a treaty of total surrender signed by the Dark Lord's hand himself. And you know they'll never get it only with Malfoy. Get out of the way.

-No." By now, the boy had stopped shaking and was facing them with a firm stance.

-Neville, by the gods! Moody is manipulating you to mould you into his perfect little minion; can't you see it?!" Harry sounded exasperated. The magical exhaustion was probably starting to wear him down.

- I'm still not going to let you pass. You made a prisoner escape. You're the traitor they were looking for."

Harry sighed. Draco looked around nervously. Now was not the time to have this discussion. As if Harry heard him, he suddenly flicked his wand at Neville, who dropped his wand with a moan of pain.

Harry ran to the other boy and gave him a solid punch in the face. Neville fell on the ground with a shout, clutching his aching nose. Blood flowed between his hands and dripped on the ground.

Harry kicked the other boy's wand out of the way and turned to Draco:

"Problem solved. Hurry up now."

They ran and dived out of the wards at the same time, falling on the other side on their stomach.

They paused for a moment and then looked at each other, smiling. They had done it. They managed to leave before the lock down.

As Draco thought that, he saw the faint blue of the wards turn silver and nearly opaque. Just in time, apparently. He turned to his right and saw Harry let his head fall forward on the grass in relief. He closed his eyes to give them a few seconds of rest. He couldn't believe he had just escaped the rebels' camp.

"So, Harry, ready to go to Malfoy Manor?" He asked in a chirpy voice (although he would deny it someone pointed it out to him).

Harry lifted his head, looked at him, and nodded. They both tiredly got up to their feet. He took Draco's hand and they disapparated.

Draco never noticed that he had called him Harry and not Hadrian.

* * *

Next Chapter is the long-awaited meeting between Harry and the Dark Lord.

Remember, people, the more you review and the quicker I'll post it!

Thank you in advance for your support!


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Woahhhh! I was blown away by the reviews I received for the last chapter! Thank you soooo much! :D You clearly made my week-end, people!

And, as promised, the fast update and the long-awaited meeting! I really hope it'll get the same awesome reception than the previous chapter :)

A lot of you said they felt sorry for Neville. I have something planned for him in the future, so don't worry about it too much.

Gyaku no Sekai: I don't want to jinx it either, but I don't think I'll let this become a 'only one update a year' kind of fic. I think I have a quite fast update rate and I'll keep it up as long as I get these awesome and motivating reviews you guys post. They really push me to write more when I feel like I'm loosing my momentum.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 15: 21st of July: In the Belly of the Beast

One might have thought I was stupid, heading to Malfoy Manor like that. But in my head at that time, it was the solution to all of my problems.

Had I just gone out there, into the wild, searching for a place to live, a job to earn some money, connections to make with the rest of the world, I would have always been scared of my shadows, terrified that one day the Aurors would come crashing in the little reality I would have built for myself, and negate all my efforts to live a normal, ordinary life.

In the outside world, I was nothing. I had no money, no experience, no education and no qualifications. The only thing I could do was fight. I couldn't even be a bodyguard, since I wasn't trained in trying to protect anybody else than myself.

Let's face it, I wasn't brought up to survive, I was trained to kill one man, or die trying.

That I liked Charms, that I was proud of having mastered the Patronus spell at the age of 13, that I actually liked running because it helped me clear my head, that I had annoyed the magic out of Sirius every time I forgot to put on a new toilet paper roll, that I was...a human being with emotions and aspirations, none of that had mattered all my life. Well, it did matter to Sirius to a certain extent, but I think he was just so much afraid of me dying in my duel with Voldemort, that he was only comfortable with me when we were training together, because then, at least, he felt useful. He felt like he was helping me survive.

But he failed, in a way, because I didn't know how to live for myself.

When I decided to leave the Rebel camp, I wanted to start my life anew. But I couldn't, not with the Dark Lord's shadow following me everywhere in my imagination, weighting down on me.

I had concluded that, in order to live, I had to die first. Or more like, to feel free of living like I wanted to, I had to try right here, right now, to settle this fight that 'Destiny' had imposed on me.

Even if it would lead me to a near-certain death, I was tired of living in fear and uncertainty; I would be set free, or die trying.

And Draco was my ticket to the Dark Lord. I wasn't an idiot. I was taught to study every new person I met to check whether they were enemies or not. I was watching Draco very closely and I did catch both his near slip, and the mistake in the first names. It surprised me that he had recognised me, as he was quite young during the short time when I was considered a hero, before being slandered as an imposter at the tender age of two or three years old.

So when we apparated to Malfoy Manor, I was nearly surprised that we weren't at the Dark Lord's Fortress already. I started to entertain the hope of being able to sleep one night and rest before confronting Voldemort: that would slightly (very slightly) even the field.

Malfoy Manor was beautiful and elegant. Its style reminded me a bit of the British Magical Library, with its pure white colour and Greek columns. The second we arrived, the lights lit up at once, as if they were welcoming us. Draco had led the apparition and was now leaning heavily on me, a faint tremor coming back to his limbs after our mad dash to freedom. I held him up by putting an arm around his waist and started to trudge up the gravel path up to the Manor.

After a couple of steps, the doors were hurriedly thrown open and a blond woman came running out, tears pouring down her face. Minister Malfoy followed her closely, his wand out and pointing toward us. I recognised him from journal articles and knew that he was also generally recognised as a powerful wizard. When he saw us, his steps faltered briefly and his wand inched down.

I continued our way up to them, starting to sweat a bit under the effort. Despite the more effective technique to destroy the wards, I was still quite winded down and I longed for a shower and a bed.

We came to a halt when we met midway. Madam Malfoy gasped and put a hand in front of her mouth when she saw her son. The Minister held her back with an extended hand. I glanced at Draco, at the grime covering his body, the tremor in his limbs, the swell of his left eye and the caked layer of blood in his hair that I hadn't noticed in the weak light of the shed. His appearance was diametrically opposed to the image he projected in public.

After a few seconds, Lucius Malfoy spoke first:

"Am I right to assume that you helped my son escape, Mister...?"

"Hadrian Black. Yes, I did. And I think Draco needs medical attention now..."

The Minister lowered the hand he had put in front of his wife and made a show of slowly sheathing his wand in an elaborate cane. He then extended his hand to me.

I looked at it without understanding for longer than I would have liked, before I put my wand away as well and grasped the hand before me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Minister. May Magic look favourably on you and your family from now on." I said with a short bow, the only one I could manage to do while still supporting his son. I felt Madam Malfoy hurry to take Draco from my arms when she saw the move.

"May She smile upon your endeavours. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my son. My wife and I were quite worried about him, I confess." He had a small sincere smile for me that lasted for about a second before he went back to his controlled facial expression.

"Shall we continue this inside?" He suggested, turning slightly and indicating the Manor with a graceful move of his hand.

I nodded and followed him while Madam Malfoy and Draco headed another way to get Draco the right potions and healing spells. Alarms bells were ringing in my head. I had come up with a plan for when I would see the Dark Lord to try to avoid being shot down like a nuisance by one of his Death Eaters and I had put all my hopes on it. I was just afraid I wouldn't live long enough to put it in execution. After a few turns and corridors, Lucius Malfoy came to a stop in front of a door. He seemed to be fighting with himself for a second and turned back to look at me. I could feel something pouring from the room, something dark and intoxicating that, strangely enough, made my scar tingle in a curious way. I detached myself from my observation of the door long enough to nod slightly at him, feeling that he needed some sign of consent before he led his son's rescuer in there.

.

The room was a study with a massive wooden desk in its very center. It had one imposing throne-like chair on one side and two smaller armchairs on the other. The walls were covered with books of all sizes. Despite the relative warmth of the summer night, a fire was roaring in the hearth, heating up the room to an almost unbearable temperature. But the heat wasn't as oppressive as the magic that saturated the room. It filled its every corner; it swirled around me in waves, probing and caressing me. It was so thick that I could nearly taste it in the air.

I closed my eyes for a brief second focusing on the magic and, when I opened them again, I could see the magical currents wafting through the room and filling it with a dark blue tint. I allowed myself a glance at the corner from where the magic emanated.

A tall form was standing there. I slowly took a deep breath to calm the racing beat of my heart and forced myself to turn my eyes away from the person who I knew was standing there, Disillusioned. I sat down in a chair and put my right elbow on its arm, my hand moving to my forehead and rubbing my tingling scar distractedly.

I looked at the Minister again. He was now sitting in his chair behind his desk, watching me closely.

"Why have you saved my son?" he asked. I sensed that this would be more an interrogation than a simple conversation.

"I was already planning to leave the day after my birthday. Why not leave a week earlier, when I can help someone in need at the same time?" I answered indifferently.

"You could have left him there. You had no reason to rescue him; you don't even know him.

-It doesn't matter if I didn't know him. I knew why he was there and I would never have let the Rebels torture innocents for information or use them as a ransom, no matter who their father might be or might have done. Children shouldn't have to pay for the decisions of their parents." I had to stop myself from looking at my right where I could feel strange emotions stir.

"Wouldn't that constitute an act of treason against the Rebels?

-Of course it does, but then again, it's only one of the many acts of treason I've committed against them in the past two years." He paused to consider this.

"Are you the one who send the information on the raids?

-I would have sent it earlier, but my limited education didn't cover an appropriate communication method, so I had to come up with a way to transmit my messages without revealing my identity to potential rebel spies in the Aurors.

-Do they have other spies in the Aurors than that Tonks girl we caught years ago?"

I felt my lips stretch in smug smile.

"Now, now, Minister, do you expect me to hand over all my information freely?"

He lifted an eyebrow in my direction and looked faintly amused.

"You did before.

-Yes, about raids. That was urgent information. The structure and organisation of the Rebellion isn't and I want to bargain with it. The only thing I require, for the moment, is a Ministry pardon for my implication in the Rebels. The rest will have to wait until other things are settled..." I couldn't stop myself this time and glanced to where He was standing, silently listening to the conversation.

"Have you ever participated in a Rebel raid?

-No. Well...I've been implicated in one, but not on their side..."

A surprised flash of understanding passed in his eyes.

"Disillusionment spell?

-Invisibility Cloak.

-The joke shop?

-I got a tool I needed for spying in the meetings of the Rebels. I'll pay for it as soon as I've got the money.

-It can be included in the deal, if you want.

-No, I want to pay for it with my own money. "

The British Minister of Magic leaned back on his seat, looking at me as if I was a puzzle he needed to solve.

"Harry Potter." He said, as if he was challenging me to deny it. I didn't even try to.

"Indeed.

-May I introduce the revered Leader of this Realm?"

I jumped on my feet, whipping my wand in the direction of the shadowed corner. My chair fell on the ground noisily but I continued to stare at the figure glowing with magic. For a second, everything was immobile and silent. It was as if the world had stopped turning to watch what would happen next.

.

Suddenly, the Disillusionment charm fell and he was there before me, in all his dark and immaculate grace, ruby-red eyes piercing through me, observing me and evaluating me, a small smirk stretching the corner of his lips.

Before he could talk or attack, I put my plan in execution:

"Lord Voldemort, I challenge you to an Honour's Duel!"

He lifted an eyebrow, drawing himself up, angling his face to the side a bit, considering.

Back at the village, when Sirius was still alive, we had discussed several options that could ensure that the fight would be clean and taken seriously. The best we came up with was the Honour Duel. The person challenged to a duel couldn't refuse it without submitting himself to the challenger's will and recognising him as his superior. Should he accept, however, he could set the time and location of the duel. The end of the fight is open; it can either be death, or surrender. If one surrenders, the other can state his prize and have it met, as long as it stayed within what the looser had when the duel was agreed upon.

It was quite the risky move, especially with the wining clause, but Sirius and I both thought it was unlikely that the duel would end in anything else than a death. In the improbable outcome where he would surrender, we had agreed that I would ask of him to give up his position at the top of the British Wizarding World and to never plot for or act out his revenge against me. Now that circumstances had changed, in the absurd outcome where I'd win, I'd just ask for peace and freedom for myself...and maybe for a couple of changes in the laws and regulations about Muggles? I'd have to think more about it if such an absurd scenario happened.

The Dark Lord was apparently done pondering because he turned to Malfoy, dismissing him of his own study. His magic was pulsing around me, distracting me as the blond man left us alone in the room.

"I agree to your challenge." He said in his velvety voice, sounding amused. I released a breath, relief and worry at conflict in me.

"When?" I asked in what I hoped was a confident voice, clenching my right hand around my wand tightly. The Dark Lord's lips widened to a sinfully smug smirk.

"Oh, eventually, I'm sure."

I stood there, shocked.

"No harm can come to any of the participants before the Duel...

-I know, don't worry, I won't hurt you before the Duel and I'll instruct my followers to do the same. Not that I think they would care about you anyway...

-But...you need to choose at some point...

-Oh, yes, if my memory serves me right, and it usually does, I have up to a year before deciding, and then I can set the Duel up to a year later. I have a lot of things I need to settle in my life before I can peacefully die, you know.

-But..." My mind was blank. I'd never thought he'd want to wait before he killed me.

"You understand that I'll ask you to stay at my home in the meanwhile, I'm sure. I wouldn't want something to happen to you where I can't monitor you. I heard the consequences would be quite painful to me if you get a life-threatening injury or die before we duel," he said, looking at me carefully.

"Okay, but..." I repeated. He had a feral grin and took a step in my direction. I took one back automatically.

"But what? This isn't going like you expected?" He asked, taking another step. I backed away from him, nearing the bookshelves.

"I..." He stepped closer to me again. My back came in contact with the furniture behind me. I swallowed nervously.

" You thought you would stroll in here gloriously, and challenge me and that I would bend down to your demands and let my life be dictated by your clever little move? Did you really think you could manipulate me so easily by unearthing an obsolete magical contract and forcing me to accept?"

He paused, by now so close to me that we were nearly touching. The feeling of his magic so close to my skin was so heady that I felt dizzy. I closed my eyes involuntarily and let it wash over me. I swallowed heavily and my breathing became shallow. I could feel the tingle of my scar spreading through my limbs. When I opened my eyes to look at him again, he was eyeing me intently.

"Do you really think you can vanquish me?" He said in a low tone that was nearly a whisper. There was a point of mockery in his voice and it snapped me out of my daze. I pushed him away from me and it made him take a step back, but he didn't lose his balance like I had hoped. He looked strangely puzzled at something and glanced down at his chest, but I ignored him, intent on answering his question.

"I had to try something! You would have killed me the second you set your eyes on me, like you did for the Rebels in that raid! I don't think I can kill you, but I have to try because I don't want to die right now!" I shouted at him vehemently.

"What if I would have been satisfied with an Unbreakable Vow from you saying that you wouldn't attack me or try to kill me in any way?

-Like you did for Neville, you mean? You wouldn't have trusted the Vow; you would have me killed before I could even try to find a way around it."

His ruby-red eyes looked at me for a second, pondering.

"Since we have already established that you had suicidal tendencies, I'd be right to be worried about it.

-I don't have suicidal tendencies!

-A lack of a sense of self-preservation, perhaps?" His tone was light, with a touch of humour in it. It felt surrealist to be here talking with the Dark Lord as if he was a normal human being. But I didn't forget why I was there. I reminded him as well:

"So, you'll let me know when you have chosen a time and place? You'll have to excuse me; I have to find Minister Malfoy to talk about accommodation for the night."

I turned around to head out of the study, but the Dark Lord gripped me by the shoulders and shoved me back against the bookshelf forcefully. I glared up at him. He glared back and I felt like I had been stabbed in the forehead.

"Argh! By the gods! What the heck? Have you created a new branch of magic where you can inflict pain telepathically, or what?" I exclaimed.

He narrowed his eyes and scrutinised my forehead. I could see that he wanted to try something, but he just looked down at it in silence.

"What?" I bit out.

"I didn't give you the permission to leave. We weren't done," he explained in carefully controlled voice.

-I'm not following your orders like a minion! I'm exhausted; I can't keep up with this conversation any longer. Especially if you start experimenting with weird magic on me." He looked at me, pondering.

"Very well. Stay here with Lucius for the moment. I'll prepare a room for you in my home in the meanwhile.

-Let me guess, you'll prepare your best room in the dungeons for me.

-You will just have to wait and see, brat." The humour was back in his voice. I glared at him again and then glanced pointedly at my shoulders that he still held to tell him silently to drop his hands so I could leave.

He smirked again, letting his hands drop slowly. I think he did it on purpose, but his hands lingered on me, sliding down along my arms almost in a caress. I shivered at the sensation and then abruptly looked at his face, horrified by my reaction. His smirk had widened in a grin, baring a pearly white row of dangerous looking teeth. I felt my blood rush up to my face and escaped out of the room before he could see my blush.

_What the heck is wrong with me?_ I thought, panicking slightly.

Well, at least I was still alive. For the moment.

* * *

Next chapter will be a Lucius' POV and, more importantly, a Voldemort's POV, hehe. You will see understand why the Dark Lord felt strangely distracted in this chapter.

So, how did you find 'The meeting'? And the 'plot twist' with the Honour Duel?

I really hope you liked them and I can't wait to read your reviews!

Thank you so much in advance for reviewing! :D


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yay! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Keep it up, please! They always bring a smile to my face :D

autumngold: We will see what will happen with Neville only in a couple of chapters, I'm afraid. The next few chapters are nearly exclusively about HPLV interactions, with a bit of Lucius or Draco here and there. It's to compensate for the 'Rebelcentric' aspect of this fic had so far.

CoNfUsEdByLiFe: I'm glad you liked the Duel's concept! And indeed, you had the right idea about Voldie's distraction...or...part of the right idea. You'll see in this chapter ;)

stubs1101: Toys? I think he would prefer to play with Harry himself that give him 'toys' :P I was sorry to read that you didn't like the Duel's idea. But it was necessary to allow some relatively peaceful interactions between Harry and Voldemort despite the Prophecy and Harry's twisted perception of reality. This fic is supposed to be a HPLV slash after all. We have to give it some time to develop! :P

FanFictionLover: Don't worry, Harry won't have such dumb luck in this fic. He might, however, 'get lucky' later on... *wiggles her eyebrows*

* * *

Chapter 16: 21st of July 1997, The Dark Lord and his Minister

Lucius was waiting outside of his study, looking at the door with trepidation. It was bad form to have a guest in your house die under your watch, especially when said guest had just risked his hide to rescue his son.

He wasn't worried about his Master. Even if he did die, he probably had some sort of contingency plans like last time. And there was no way that a boy like Potter, who was just the age of his Draco, for Salazar's sake, could beat the most powerful wizard in Britain.

He was worried about his study, however. It was filled with precious books and priceless objects and he really didn't want them damaged. So he was dreading what would come out of this meeting. Not because he was unusually worried for the Potter boy. No.

.

To say that he wasn't surprised when he saw, instead of a smug blood-covered Dark Lord, a blushing teenager hurriedly emerging from his study and a not-bloodied Dark Lord looking at his back in deep reflection, would be a lie. He somehow could feel that something had happened in there that could very well change the dynamics of the current regime.

He looked to his Master, waiting for instructions on what to do with his troublesome guest.

Lord Voldemort made eye contact, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well, Lucius, it's late, why don't you show the boy to his room for the night? He's quite young, after all, he needs his sleep to function properly in the morning."

Potter pivoted abruptly, facing the Dark Lord and shooting him what was probably the darkest look he could manage. Which was to say, a mildly irritated look that made him look like a petulant teen.

And the Dark Lord snorted (snorted!) in amusement at the boy's antics.

"Of course, My Lord, how remiss of me. Follow me, then, Potter."

The young man straightened up his back and glided (glided!) up to him, looking at him expectantly. With a last glance at his still-smirking Lord, Lucius walked away in the direction of the guest wing.

While he was walking there, he watched Potter closely, trying to find out what had happened in his study.

The young man was walking fluidly at his side, looking around at the paintings and sculptures. He looked relaxed and at ease, compared to earlier.

"Ask your question already." Potter said, catching his observation.

"Have you fought?

-Obviously not. I'm still alive." That was said in a dead, neutral voice.

"What happened in there?

-We had a...temporary agreement. He decided that he needed some time to make arrangements and I certainly can't blame him for that. I don't have much and I have prepared for my death basically my whole life. He has everything he ever wanted and I've just dumped the Duel in his lap. He has a lot more to loose than me in this, even if it's unlikely that I'll win.

-I would think that loosing your life is a price steep enough...

-I want to live, but not like this. This isn't a life. It's Death waiting to happen." Lucius paused a bit to ponder what sort of life the teen had lived to be this jaded.

"What would you do, if you were free of those expectations?" he asked, curious.

"I would do something as completely unrelated to fighting as possible. I don't know what...I haven't exactly had the chance to explore my horizons yet. Maybe warding, maybe travelling for a while...I haven't been to many places so far...

-I see...

-And you? Are you satisfied with your life?" asked Harry abruptly. Lucius lifted an eyebrow.

-Why would I not be? I'm the British Minister of Magic, I have a beautiful wife and a talented son, and I have increased my family's wealth and status significantly during my life. I have everything I want."

Potter scrutinised him, trying to determine if he said the truth.

"It must be difficult to work as a Minister under the Dark Lord. You rule over everyone else, but you have to be subservient to him...

-I think you would be surprised at the amount of freedom I have in my office. I've gained more and more autonomy from him as the years have passed and he lost interest in the inner workings of the Ministry.

-He lost interest?

-The man is a real genius, Potter. He came up with innovative ideas to reform the Magical Government, stayed a while to make sure that his projects had been well implemented and that the biggest problems were solved, and then he moved on to another problematic subject.

-What was it?

- He spent a lot of effort in getting his government recognised by other states as legitimate, mostly to be able to form better international trade agreements, but also for international relations in themselves. Britain has been a closed-off world for way too long and we are still lagging behind in numerous sectors.

-Like which ones?

-Education Methods, Mental Healing, Family Law, Journalistic Integrity, Creatures Rights, and many others. We are working on bettering them, but it's a long-term effort and often an uphill struggle."

Lucius stopped in front of a door, indicating it to Harry.

"This will be your room for tonight, at least. Don't hesitate to call on our house-elf Dobby if you want anything.

-I won't. Thank you so much for your hospitality.

-You have given me my son back tonight, Mister Potter. A room for the night is nothing compared to it.

-Call me Harry...If you want.

-Very well, Harry. You can call me Lucius as well. I wish you good night.

-Good night, Lucius."

Harry disappeared inside his room, leaving Lucius to ponder about the mystery of this boy.

.

That night in his bed, when he talked about the events with Narcissa, she thought about it for a moment, before she said:

"You know, Lucius, I think he might be good for our Lord.

-What do you mean?" asked Lucius, quite surprised.

"Well, He hasn't had anyone standing up against him for quite a while now. Perhaps this Harry Potter will be a welcomed distraction to the tedious business and research he does these days. He will keep him on his toes, so to speak.

-It wouldn't do for you to get attached to the boy now, Narcissa. They have an Honour's Duel to settle sooner or later."

Narcissa Malfoy sighed softly and laid her head on her husband's chest.

"I know. I'm just really grateful that he helped our Draco get out of this nasty place and I want to repay him somehow.

-We will think of something. In the meanwhile, we only have to be good hosts for him. I imagine that he'll feel a bit lost for a while. From what I heard, he was quite sheltered at the Rebel camp and will probably feel a bit disoriented for a while."

They discussed for a few more minutes before Lucius snuffed out the lights with a wave of his hand and settled for the night beside his lovely life. He thought of the question Harry asked him earlier. Was he really satisfied with his life? Sometimes he did have the impression that he had not accomplished enough by himself and that too much of his life had been dictated by the Dark Lord. He also missed the time when Draco was just a child and looked at him with admiration in the eyes. Now his son only looked at the Dark Lord that way. Really, about the only person of which Lucius could be jealous was his Master, but he felt oddly content in his position of 2nd most powerful man in the British hierarchy.

He felt Narcissa press against him in her sleep and thought of his wife for a moment. She had always wanted a second child, but his father had told him that having a second heir would only divide the fortune of the family and weaken it. At the time, he had wielded to his father's advice, but maybe now he could take control of his life more and listen to his own desires. He was a Malfoy, after all, and Malfoys always get what they want. He pulled his wife closer against his chest and settled in a content sleep, reassured that all was well again in his life.

o0o0o

Tom Marvolo Riddle had been called a genius practically from the moment he was born, eyes wide open and silently taking in his dying mother. The matrons at the orphanage had also said that he was possessed by the Devil because of his eerie calm and precocious control over his accidental magic. The most common words used to describe him had always been, since that very first moment, genius and monster.

And, in his life, he had proven the validity of those two qualifying terms numerous times.

So, really, when Magic basically handed him the other person to which he was connected on a silver platter, solving once and for all this ridiculous... riddle (he hated not being able to use that word without cringing) that had plagued him those past few years, he not only saw it immediately, he also berated himself for not finding the solution quicker, because it was obvious, really, even without having met Potter properly before.

Lord Voldemort had often pondered the identity of the person to which his soul was linked. Harry Potter was connected to him by the Prophecy and the brother wands that they shared, but that wasn't enough to be conclusive evidence. However, he should have noticed that the curiosity he felt for everything related to the boy wasn't normal. Nobody fascinated him for this long, especially not when he had never actually met them.

It did also explain why he didn't feel inclined to kill the boy. He had felt it the moment Potter had entered the room, this strange feeling that he knew him, that the young man's magic was similar to his. He had watched him closely, noting how he kept rubbing his scar on his forehead. Why would a scar, even if it was filled with dark residue from the Killing curse, be still bothering him more than fifteen years after it was inflicted? And, judging from the memories he saw of the boy, it wasn't an idiosyncrasy either. So why would the scar act up in this precise moment, when he was there?

Well, the answer was so obvious that he had nearly smacked himself on the forehead when he realised it the second the brat left him in Lucius' study.

_Harry Potter is my Horcrux._

.

He evaluated his reactions to this news closely, and realised that he was amused and in fact quite pleased with this development. Another safeguard against death was always welcomed, even if it was done accidentally. However, the Honour's Duel was a problem now, since he had no intention of killing his involuntary Horcrux.

He had initially decided to give himself a few days of entertainment, watching the boy stumble on his feet while being introduced to society, or maybe using the Duel to give him good publicity and quash the hopes of certain members of his society who still thought that "the Boy-Who-Lived" would come and saved them by slaughtering their so-called Saviour in front of a large crowd.

He had thought of doing it on the next Victory Day, to change a bit from the routine procession and speech formula and to kill another preeminent Light figurehead from the war (as ridiculous as it was to proclaim a baby a significant figure in a war, but that was the Light for you) on the anniversary of Dumbledore's death. It would add another victory to this already glorious date.

He had also thought of killing the boy in a few days. That would have given him another pretext for a summer festival. Not that he cared in any way about festivals, but it was an easy method to keep the population happy and, if they were in a good mood, it was easier to pass his more outrageous law propositions without too much protest. _Panem et circences_ (Bread and circuses are all you need to keep your population happy, according to some Roman wizard), and all that.

But no, there wouldn't be a show like that anytime soon. He had revised his opinion of Harry Potter the second the other entered the room, already sensing him there and spotting him so quickly, his eyes glowing with magical sight.

During Lucius' little interview, his answers had been very surprising as well. He had his doubts that Potter was the traitor among the Rebels, but to see him so casually talk about how he betrayed them over and over without as much as blinking was a novel experience.

The young man, because there was no denying that he grew up (and quite well at that), was a lot more confidant than most of his peers and had drawn his wand on him with admirable composure. He had looked at him with the same determination and steadfast courage that the Dark Lord remembered in Potter's parents.

This was undoubtedly a remarkable and interesting young man and his reactions to him were entertaining, to say the least. Well, Voldemort was accustomed to people's reactions to his looks by now and he could see the lust shining in practically everyone's eyes wherever he was going. Magic had blessed him with divine looks and She only knows how well he had used that particular gift throughout the years, especially when he was at Hogwarts. Potter, however, did not seem to be salivating after his looks as much as he was after his magic. The Dark Lord had let his magical aura spread around him in Lucius' office to check how the teen would respond to it. Potter had seem to drink it all up as if it was the finest of ambrosia and to see him with his head titled back in bliss and breathing shallowly had sent a shock of arousal coursing through his body stronger than he had felt in quite a while. This was interesting. Potter certainly was an attractive young man, and had a strong personality as well, from what he could say at that moment...

But he was also his Horcrux and it wouldn't do to seduce the teen and be stuck with a loved-struck admirer following him around for years because he couldn't get rid of him after his fancy had passed and he wanted to move on to his next conquest. Not to mention that there was a strange unprecedented near-incest component to screwing someone who had a part of your soul in them and he wasn't sure of how that sat with him. When they had touched briefly, he had felt something reacting in him, as if his soul was yearning to be reunited with another of its pieces. This was a most curious development and one that baffled him.

One thing was sure, however, and it was that Potter was around to stay. With the Rebels roaming around searching for his Horcruxes, it wouldn't do to let Potter go and get assassinated, even if it was unlikely that his former friends and family would commit such a drastic move against him. He would use the ridiculous excuse of the Duel to keep him close and get to know him to manipulate him properly. Once a traitor, always a traitor, after all, and, even if it was obvious that the Rebels had slighted him enough to deserve to be betrayed by their child-hero, he wouldn't let himself fall in the same trap. Potter's loyalty went with what he perceived was right or wrong, so, to win it, he'd have to do a bit of acting and convince the boy that every decision he took were for the good of all. But then again, that's what he did with the rest of the population anyway so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge.

_If I don't find anything to keep him busy, he'll be bored and cause trouble, like all teenagers, probably. Perhaps I should keep him at Malfoy Manor for a while._

Lucius' son seemed to have struck up a hasty friendship with him and it would probably help Harry feel comfortable with his new life on the Dark Side if he felt like he belonged there. Not to mention that he was a busy man and he didn't like people intruding on his work.

_I'll go visit him often and he'll feel more flattered that I came to see him than if we stumbled on each other at every corner of my mansion and always ate together. Hum...yes, that should do nicely._

As for the Duel, well...they would see how things progressed. There was always the chance of convincing Harry that, if he surrendered to him, Voldemort wouldn't ask a price too high and that it was really the best choice to make in such a situation. Especially since the Dark Lord would never surrender or lose to the younger man: that was an absurd thought.

His decision about Harry taken, he returned to the situation at hand. It seemed that Muggles had created another dangerous invention called "the Internet" and that it was fast becoming a problem for wizards around the world. So much, in fact, that the next International Confederation of Wizards meeting in two months would be completely dedicated to finding solutions to help preserve the secret of their community. He would go there to promote greater segregation between the Muggle and Wizarding World and to suggest some spells and wards with which he had come up in his research.

_I'll go see Harry tomorrow to inform him of my decision._ He decided to ignore the strange surge of eagerness that he felt in his stomach at the thought of seeing the young man again so soon. It was just the Horcrux reacting, anyway.

* * *

Oh...in denial, the Dark Lord? Maybe just a bit ^^

Sorry for those who thought Harry would go live at the Dark Lord's place right now, but I thought this would fit better to make Voldemort and Harry become gradually more at ease with each other. Don't worry though, he'll go there at some point. It's all in my masterplan, mouhouhaha.

Next chapter: More LM narration (haha, it will be a funny one, you'll see) and more HPLV interaction, some serious 'tension' between the two and more smug teasing from the Dark Lord.

Thank you again to those who reviewed! It's the best reward I could have for investing my time in bringing you fast updates.^^

I've got a couple of ideas for other HP fics and it's been itching me to start writing them, but I know that it would probably put this fic to a second place in my order of priorities so I said "no, no, I can't do that to my reviewers". So please review, dear readers, or I might succumb to temptation..

Thank you in advance :)


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hello again! I hope you all had Happy Valentine's day. This is your belated gift, my lovelies! (hehe)

I got some nice and very enthusiastic reviews for the last chapters, thank you so much to all of you who reviewed! I really love to hear your comments and I'm glad that my ideas are well-received!

Hey, I have a little question for you all. Am I the only one who feels like PMs are too intrusive for replying to reviews? I always get the impression that I'm forcing myself on you when I reply without you asking a question to me, even if it's just to thank you...I really wouldn't want to look like this unattainable author who is too busy to reply when you have taken some of your time to write him/her a nice little review, but, at the same time, I don't want to scare you away with my PMs. So, please help me and tell me what you think?

The answers to my guests' questions:

automngold: According to what Lucius said in the previous chapter, Narcissa always wanted a second child, but they had decided not to at Lucius' father's insistence. But maybe she'll think it's too late for that now...who knows? ;)

Guest: You got it right, reviewer! Harry's there to stay ;)

FanFiction Lover: Whatever you saw in Lucius, I definitely saw as well. Must be the long hair...or the powerful and dignified attitude. Not to mention that I've always had a weakness for the bad guys in the stories. The Dark Lord's definitely hotter than any Malfoy though, I think ;)

Warnings: A bit of Unresolved Sexual Tension (hehe) and a Dark Lord who has too much fun teasing our poor little Saviour. Mentions of sexual situations/fantasies? (Wow, that's a pretty mild warning)

* * *

Chapter 17: 22nd of July, Training?

Morning came much too early for the British Minister of Magic, but duty called. He had neglected his work in the past two days because of his son's kidnapping and he had to make up for it today. His ministers and assistants understood, however, that family was priority in such an emergency.

He would also have to hire the best of wardmakers in the country, no, in the continent to strengthen his wards. He still didn't understand how they managed to bypass the ancient wards of his manor. They might not have been updated in the last 15 years or so, but wards tied to old buildings were usually too strong to destroy so easily, not to mention that the alarm wards had failed to prevent him of the intrusion as well. It baffled him completely. Two nights ago, he had received a panicked call from Narcissa when she came back from having tea with some of her friends and that's how he had learnt of the collapse of his wards. It was unacceptable.

He shuddered when he thought of what Draco's fate at the hands of the rebels would have been without Harry. The rebels were lucky that he still had no idea of the location of their camp, because he would have been there right now, burning it to ground and torturing each one of them to insanity if he knew how to find them. He'd make a massacre out of that dingy little dump worthy of the bloody reputation he had gained during the last war. Nobody messed with his precious son and heir without suffering his ire...

.

After a quick check-up on his dear son who was now sleeping peacefully in his bed and a silent thank-you sent in the approximate direction of where the guest bedroom was, Lucius headed toward the family dining room to have his solitary breakfast.

His thoughts, however, were soon disrupted by noises he heard coming for somewhere to his left. His first thought was that the rebels were back already and he whipped his wand out of his cane. He was an Inner-circle Death Eater, for Salazar's sake, some impoverished hopeless rebels would not chase him away from his home. He would settle the conflict right now by killing them all for daring to intrude in his home and torture his son.

He stormed in the direction of the noise, furious. It was coming from the duelling room. What were they doing in there?

Lucius didn't bother to be subtle for once in his life; he just slammed the doors open and strode inside, only to stop short on the spot, anger forgotten as fast as it came when he took in the scene he just interrupted.

Potter, who for some unfathomable reason had visibly gotten up even earlier than him despite his tiredness of the previous night, was standing in the middle of the room, in a loose pair of training pants, without a shirt...and...upside down on his hands? Lucius tilted his head to the side. He didn't think one's back could bend that far without a particularly painful curse. And why was he lowering himself close to the ground, only to go back up afterwards?

Potter apparently spotted him, because he lifted his head in surprise, unbent his back for its tortuous position and got back up on his feet fluidly. He sent him a polite smile and said:

"Oh, hello Lucius. I hope it's not a problem if I use this room for training...

-Oh, training. That's what this was, indeed. Well, I don't see a problem to it. This room is usually used for fencing and duelling but you can do...whatever it was that you were doing before if you want. _That's training? Does he hope to beat the Dark Lord by contorting on himself in weird positions and making the man too surprised to react?_

-You're sure you won't get in trouble with him for that?

-For what?" _Ah, encouraging him to train to have a chance to defeat the Dark Lord? As if that could happen._ "Ah, well, the Dark Lord hates fights that aren't challenging enough. He thinks it's a waste of time if he fights someone who could obviously have been beaten by any of his better followers. So, while I have no idea of your competence, I don't think he would mind if you made the fight entertaining."

Harry frowned his brow, looking at him with a serious expression.

"You do know that you are casually talking about a fight in which I will most probably be ruthlessly killed? And you say that you are hoping I'll at least manage to make it entertaining enough for the Dark Lord. Wow, " he said in incredulous voice.

"Well, you are the one who issued the Duel. You must know who you are hoping to beat. I'm sorry for sounding dismissive about your life. I just can't understand what motivated you to do such a drastic move..."

Harry brusquely turned his head away from him and looked to the side with anger, clenching his fists tightly.

"You have no idea how it feels like to know that you have been brought up for one purpose only. I'm no one until I try to settle this 'Task' that has been my burden all my life. If I survive it, then I'll be able to live for myself at long last. Until then, I'm only living on borrowed time. And at least with the Duel, I know I'm not just going to be 'taken care of' by one of his followers because he didn't deem this fight worthy of his attention.

-I wasn't talking about you earlier when I said that. The Dark Lord has been...strangely inquisitive about you these past years. I think he was looking forward to meet you in person at last. He wouldn't have dismissed your challenge like that."

Harry looked surprised by what Lucius had said.

"The Dark Lord was asking about me? Why?

-When you were eleven and didn't come to Hogwarts, he received a memory of your visit to the want shop and what happened there intrigued him. He didn't say anything more than that to me..."

The arrival of the Dark Lord in the doorframe interrupted their conversation.

"Well, Lucius, already gossiping and revealing all my secrets to my 'preordained enemy' as I can see. Do I have to worry about a change of allegiance from you?" said his Master, looking faintly amused, thankfully.

"Of course not, my Lord. I am your loyal servant." _Better not take a chance._

-You better be."

The tone was a bit curt and accompanied with a pointed look. He saw from the corner of his eye Harry's eyebrows lift in surprise at the reply. Lucius decided that it was time for a strategic withdrawal. And bid his farewell to the two, heading for his breakfast at last. He wouldn't be early at the Ministry today, but at least, he had learnt more about his houseguest this morning, so his time had not been completely wasted. And what he had learnt was quite interesting.

He ate his eggs, masticating slowly while he mulled over the conversation he just had with his young guest.

Apparently, Harry didn't want to kill the Dark Lord because he hated the latter and wanted him dead, but more because of a deeply ingrained belief that it was his 'Destiny' to fight him. It struck him as strange that Harry had been able to discern the web of lies that the Rebels had weaved around him about their role in society and the Dark Lord's regime in general, but not about his supposed 'Task'.

The boy seemed to believe that his fight against the Leader of the British Wizarding World was set in stone. And, if it wasn't before, he had actively made it immutable when he challenged the Dark Lord. This whole behaviour was quite puzzling and illogical, to him at least. He'd discuss it with his Master later to have his opinion on the matter, but Lucius made the temporary conclusion that this distorted reality in which Harry lived came directly from his life at the Rebel's camp and from a sort of 'brain-washing' they might have done to set him on this path.

He finished his breakfast and left for a long day at the Ministry.

o0o0o

.

In the training room, after Lucius left, Harry and the Dark Lord stood silently, watching each other closely. Well, the Dark Lord was admiring the view of the younger man's finely muscled chest and slightly sweaty body and was, despite his conclusions of yesterday, contemplating the idea of having the other on his bed, pinned under him and begging for sweet release.

Harry, however, was detailing the Dark Lord's hungry look and wondering why the man was watching him so eagerly. Did he decide on a time for the Duel? Would it be right now? He opened his mouth to ask his questions, but closed it shut when the enticing magic of the Dark Lord began swirling around him again. The powerful man approached him, looking at his forehead intently. He suddenly noticed that his scar had started tingling again. Did it react to the Dark Lord's magic? The scar had been made by his magic after all, or so said the stories he heard about his first encounter with Voldemort as a baby. He decided to ask the other man about it. The worst that could happen would be to be shut down without an answer.

"Why does my scar tingle when you're there?" The Dark Lord paused his perusal and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Tingles, you say?

-Yeah, it tickles a bit when you come closer.

The Dark Lord walked in his direction, stopping just an inch away from him.

"Closer...you mean like now? What are you feeling at the moment?" He asked with a low voice, his breath washing over Harry's face in a surprisingly pleasant sensation.

Harry licked his lips, thinking over his words carefully. He certainly didn't want to answer that the feeling of the Dark Lord's magic around him aroused and dazzled him.

Voldemort's eyes followed the tongue that peeked through the young man's lips and moistened them, making them look shiny and even more edible than before. He wondered why he thought that seducing Harry would not be a good idea. The boy was his Horcrux, by Morgana! If he belonged to anyone, it would be to him! Clearly, this was Magic's way to tell him that Harry was a gift for him, to thank him for his efforts in bringing Her back to her former glory in Britain.

He lifted a hand to touch his prize. When it came in contact with Harry's strong shoulder, brushing a strand of his hair away from the young man's jaw, he had to hold in a pleased hum at the warmth that he felt under his fingers and at the contact with Harry's powerful magic.

The younger man wasn't as good with controlling his reactions, apparently, since he moaned audibly at the sensation and shivered.

Voldemort could barely imagine how their magic would clash and rise together and the delicious sounds he could coax from Harry's mouth if he had sex with him. He groaned internally at the thought.

He snapped from his train of thoughts and withdrew his hand when he heard Harry clear his throat and say:

"So...have you thought of a date for our Duel?

-Hmmm...yes, I've thought about it. And I decided that I didn't want to kill an uneducated minor. It would be bad for my reputation, after all. You can't keep up the image of a fair ruler if said ruler goes around accepting duels from teens that don't even have their NEWTs, let alone their OWLs.

-But you were Honour bound to accept...

-Yes, and you can be sure that I'll abolish that archaic law as soon as I can. I don't want everybody who has something against me to come up and force me to battle them to death every minute of the day. It would seriously deplete the magical population of Britain when I have worked too hard to make it increase. I do have a lot of enemies, you know, although they are not all as upfront and brave about it as you are."

Harry's face turned a delicious shade of red at the praise. He hastily turned around and went to pick up his discarded shirt a couple of feet away from there, putting it on with short movements and effectively ending the Dark Lord's subtle leering session.

He turned back to him, watching him and pondering something.

"So...you want me to be an adult and have my NEWTs before we can duel?

-Indeed. That would be better.

-But that could take months, you know!

-Hmm...Probably. I'm not in a hurry to kill you though, if that's what you are complaining about.

-Why not?

-Why what?" asked Voldemort, although he knew what Harry wanted to ask.

"Why aren't you in hurry to kill me? Don't you want to complete the Prophecy?

-I don't believe in Divination. I would have been happy to forget about the Prophecy integrally if you hadn't come up to me and challenged me. I rather think that prophecies are mostly self-fulfilling, and your behaviour just reinforces my theory.

-You don't believe in Destiny?

-Well, brat, I don't want to start a philosophical debate with you, so I'll only say that I believe that some of us are born with greater abilities than others and with the potential to reach their goals. What those goals are, however, are the results of a myriad of factors that influence us along our lives. One isn't 'born to do something'; one uses the gifts given by Magic herself and decides what to do with them. Had I not been as ambitious as I am, I would probably have a job as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries at this point, and be quite happy to just do my research and be left alone with my little projects. And the Ministry would still be as corrupt as it was, and the Minister would be another spineless fool put there by whoever could bribe the vote the most.

-So you don't think that I had to confront you... You expect me to believe that you would have just let me live in peace if I hadn't challenged you? Despite having the 'potential' to kill you?

-I would probably have asked for some type of...reassurance that you wouldn't oppose me, but I wouldn't have bothered to hunt you down and kill you." _Actually, I was prepared to kill you before I found out that you were my Horcrux, I just wanted some entertainment before killing you. Life alone at the top can be so tedious, you know? _thought the Dark Lord, wondering how Harry would have reacted to the truth. It would have been quite funny to watch, but he did want to get the boy strongly to his side, so he continued to act accordingly.

"You don't really know me, after all" he said. "You only know what the Rebels have said of me, which is probably the most horrible lies they could find." _Which is true, but they most likely had the general picture right. I am not a kind man and never will be, after all._

"Well..."answered the boy hesitantly. "They did say some very outrageous things about you when they were discussing the objects..."

The Dark Lord's plan to make Harry trust him came to a screeching halt when he heard his Horcruxes so casually mentioned. He kept a neutral face, but watched the young man closely. He didn't seem to know the importance of the subject about which he was taking.

He decided to casually interrogate the young man.

"Ah? What sort of things? And what type of objects are we talking about? When one practically owns the British Wizarding World, one has a lot of baubles lying around..." he said dismissively.

Harry hesitated at sharing freely his information, but the subject didn't really seem of enough value to the older man to bargain with it, so he gave him an idea of what the Rebels discussed.

"Well, I really don't know what type of objects they were talking about. That was part of the problem, actually. Moody sent some Rebels out to seek information about you and potential objects that could be precious to you, but he never gave a criteria or descriptions, so nobody really knew what to search for and they came back with the most ridiculous gossips about you..." he trailed off, not really sure if he should broach the subject. Some of it was quite insulting, after all.

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

Harry blushed and said:

"Well, someone said something about a rattle that you kept under your pillow?" Voldemort snorted at the idea. _Absurd and really off track, perfect_.

Harry continued:

"Yeah, that's what I thought as well, it was ridiculous! They even tried to make it sound more legit by saying it was a rattle passed through generations of the Slytherin line, or something like that."

_Well, that's actually a bit too close for comfort. _

He had never found his Locket again, after all. He could still feel it somewhere, but when he went to check on it, he found that Regulus, that miserable traitor, had stolen it from its cave. And, from relics of the Slytherin line, there was only one step to relics of other Hogwarts lines...and if they knew about the ring...ring, locket, cup, and diadem. Morgana, they could know about all of them without too much problem! Maybe they even knew about Harry and hoped that he would kill his involuntary Horcrux himself. According to what he gleaned from the Longbottom brat's mind, Moody did think that Harry wasn't the 'Chosen One' because he was 'tainted'. How would the Rebels react when they will realise that Harry was still alive? That he hadn't carried out his 'Destiny' or died trying?

"...and turned you into a snake-looking guy...not that you look like that anymore, or anything." _What?_

"What are you talking about, brat? What turned me into a snake?"

Harry turned beet-red and started spluttering.

"No, no, it was just some idiotic gossip...I thought you would find it funny..."

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow at him again. _Harry wanted to amuse me? Why? Oh well, might as well go along with it._

"Well, I apologise, but I was lost in thought about that dear rattle of mine that I have lost so many years ago. Such a tragic loss...a precious family heirloom, that was. Or so I heard." He said with a smirk.

Harry stood there, shocked that the Leader of the British Wizarding Nation had just made a joke. Voldemort looked to the skies in annoyance. _Why does everybody always act so surprised whenever I am even slightly humorous? _Life would be quite dull without the occasional dry remark or cutting sarcasm. He particularly enjoyed morbid humour as well. It was one of the only reasons why he kept Bella around these days...

"You were saying, then? The explanation for my former appearance?" He asked, to get Harry to start talking again.

"Ah, yes, there's this witch and she said that...hmm.

-Go on.

-She said you liked your familiar so much that you became like him, in a way.

-Harry, tell the truth. I won't get mad." _Well, I might get mad at the fools who reported this tale._

"Some, well, most of the gossips the Rebels got were about your sexual life, so...they said that you and Nagini, well, that you...

-I get the picture, thank you." The Dark Lord interrupted in a cold voice, quite disgusted with the Rebels' imagination now. _How can you even have sex with a snake? By Morgana, Nagini will laugh when she hears this!_

-I couldn't believe it either when I heard it, and they said a whole bunch of other things, like how you had a harem or sex slaves...

-However did they find out about my secret harem?" interjected Voldemort in a bored tone.

"Or how you had erec...err...how you were a real sadist in bed...

-There's nothing wrong with inflicting a bit of pain mixed in the pleasure," he protested in an amused voice, letting the slip pass without commenting on it.

"Or how you were really submissive to compensate for ruling over everybody else...

-Ah, now, that's completely false. I like my men beneath me in every sense of the term." contradicted the Dark Lord.

Harry gasped and looked at him incredulously.

"You're gay?" The question slipped out of his lips before he was able to stop it.

Voldemort smirked at him, taking a step toward him.

"I am quite happy at the moment, thank you for asking. But I suppose the term could also be used to refer to my sexual orientation. " He said lightly, observing the other's reaction. He wasn't disappointed. Harry blushed again, looking him up and down and detailing him not really subtly.

"Are you trying to ascertain the truth of what I said by scrutinising me, or are you suddenly disgusted by my very presence?

-No! No! I'm really not...you know, judging you or anything. It's just that someone told me at some point that I was..." he swallowed. "That I was 'obviously gay' or something and I was just wondering how he saw that and I was trying to see if there was anything in how you looked that made it clear or not..." he ended in a voice barely louder than a whisper, embarrassed.

_This boy is more sheltered than I had imagined. I suppose it's up to me to educate my little Horcrux, then,_ he thought with a smirk, thinking of everything he could teach the young man on that particular subject.

"Well...there are no outer signs per se, but I can see how you would attract that type of comments." Harry blinked up at him. "You are too graceful. It probably comes from all the combat training you did. There is something...seductive about the way you move, every single one of your movements is precise and useful, and yet, oddly fluid. And well, grace and fluidity are traits often associated with women, so...

-I'm not effeminate! By the gods! This is absurd!" said Harry, throwing his arms up in frustration. Voldemort titled his head to the side a little, considering.

"I agree. But people are often judgmental and jump to conclusions irrationally. Now, why don't you talk to me a bit more about these objects the Rebels were interested in..." It was amusing to see Harry so embarrassed, but this conversation was drifting away from its purpose.

Harry suddenly narrowed his eyes at him, evaluating something. The Dark Lord had sounded too eager to go back to the subject of the objects for how dismissive of it he had been before.

"What do I get if I tell you?" He said, expectant.

The Dark Lord stopped short and looked at him, an oddly satisfied look on his face. _We might just make a Slytherin out of this one._

-What do you want? Within reason. You already told me the Rebels didn't know much.

Harry thought about it for a second.

-A want to visit Gringotts. I know that my vaults are frozen, but I want to set up a will for who would get them if I die soon." The previously light conversation had taken a more serious turn.

"Your vaults were frozen when it became obvious that the Rebels were draining them to finance their campaign against me. Since you are not with them anymore, and since you have been exonerated from any crime you did while you were living among them, we could have them unfrozen and you would be able to withdraw money as you wish...You will go there once with an appropriate escort to get authenticated and to set up your will. Does that satisfy you?"

Harry, who didn't think his feeble attempt at negotiating would work, looked quite pleased at the result. Voldemort had given in quite easily this time, but it was a reasonable request and he wanted to encourage this type of behaviour from Harry. If the younger man thought he could get something by negotiating, he would be less confrontational and think less of his situation as being a prisoner in a gilded cage.

"Ah, yes, about the information, there isn't much more, I think. Sirius made a suggestion about a wand, Nagini or family heirlooms and they all found it likely, but really, I think that the only reliable information they had on you came from Dumbledore's notes on your life.

-So the old fool comes back to haunt me from his grave. I can already guess what his notes said about me. Did he speculate on the objects, as well?

-No, well, if he did, Moody didn't bring that part to the meeting.

-I see now how you were able to see through the Rebels' lies if you question everything that you hear. Well, if that is everything (Harry nodded), I will leave you to it for today. The room for you is ready, but I thought you might like to stay here for a while. Maybe until Hogwarts starts again? I know that you will want to see Lucius' son and I really don't want to welcome the annoying brat in my home more than necessary. "

Harry looked taken aback by his suggestion. Then, he looked at him as if he'd never seen him before. That was precisely what the Dark Lord wanted. Make Harry doubt everything he thought he knew about him. Paint a whole different portrait of himself than what the Rebels told the boy.

Harry nodded his agreement.

"Good, that's settled then. I'll send someone to escort you to Gringotts and will try to find you a tutor for your OWls and NEWTs...

-When will I see you again?

-In a couple of days, I'd wager. " The young man sounded strangely eager. Surely his plan wasn't working that well already?

-What will you do until then?" It was as if Harry was reluctant to see him go. He looked at the other closely and saw the young man leaning forward slightly toward him, as if drawn by a magnet. _Was this because of the Horcrux as well? Does Harry feel the same pull? And the boy, who doesn't know that he hosts a part of my soul, probably thinks that he's hopelessly infatuated with me. Oh, well. I could use that to my advantage quite easily._

"Ah, well, your Rebels gave me an interesting idea. I think I'll go recruit some appetising young men for my new harem. Would you happen to know any who would be interested?"

Harry's eyes widened at his words and blushed a bit, before he became slightly angry.

"That's disgusting! Who do you think you are?

-The Supreme Leader of Britain." he answered in a chilly tone. He didn't appreciate disrespect, even if he had tried to provoke a reaction out of the young man.

Instead of cowering at his tone, Harry, the eternal Gryffindor, bristled at it.

"Well, even if you are, you are not above the laws, and you are not above morals!"

_Yes, I am. I am a dictator; I am the Law, didn't you know? _He thought in annoyance.

"They would be all adults and consenting. As far as I'm concerned, there would be no moral problem to it. Why are you so furious anyway? I was simply teasing you."

Harry seemed to deflate at this.

"So...you are not going to recruit a harem, then?"

The Dark Lord barked a laugh.

"It wouldn't be because I lack the candidates, that's for sure. However, there is something incredibly boring with having all that flesh offered to me so easily, desperately waiting and fighting for my attention. I much prefer the pleasure of the chase, the challenge of a slow seduction. Taming the fire of a wild creature and harnessing its power... "

While he was talking, he had walked up to Harry, stopping as close to him as he had at the beginning of their conversation. It felt to Harry as if the magic surrounding him had suddenly became stronger, headier. It made him want to shiver, to surrender to this dangerous man, to be the target of his attentions. It made him want to grasp the front of the Dark Lord's robes and pull the man's face down to his in a violent kiss, to fight for dominance with him in a passionate duel of tongues and teeth. He looked at the man's lips that had widened in a wicked smile. For a second, as his eyes flickered up to Voldemort's eyes, he thought that the man would kiss him, take him, do everything he dreamt of, right at that moment. But the lust he thought he had seen in the Dark Lord's intense gaze was quickly replaced by a neutral façade. Harry wondered if he had imagined it.

"Right, then. I shall leave you to it. I will see in a few days. Until then, Harry."

That snapped him out of his thoughts abruptly. He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts.

"Yes! Of course. I'll see you then." He tried to keep a neutral voice, to not sound too dejected.

_What is wrong with me! _He thought in a now familiar frustration at himself.

When he thought of the reactions he had had all his life to the Dark Lord, however, he realised that he had always been too fascinated, too captivated with the man. Whatever was wrong with him had always been there. He just had to learn to deal with it now that he would see the man at a semi-regular basis.

_I just hope the Dark Lord hasn't noticed anything..._

* * *

What do you think of the Dark Lord's new plan to act on his desires and "get what is rightfully his"?

The next chapter will be focused on Harry's interactions with the Malfoys and will contain my own take on how Harry would do the classic clothes shopping session in Diagon Alley. Don't flame before you read it, it will be different than most most Grey!Harry or Dark!Harry goes shopping I've read, hehe ;)

And now, dear readers, the ball is in your camp! I'm eagerly looking forward to read your reviews! Seriously, whenever I hear a new message arrive in my inbox now, I always cross my fingers internally and hope for a review. They just make me so happy :)

The support is really appreciated! I think that, without all of you, I would have stopped writing this about ten chapters ago. You give me the drive to continue!

So, thank you in advance for reviewing!


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yaayyy! 300 reviews and I loved and valued every single one of them! Thank you so much to everyone who is supporting me!

I did get a lot of helpful answers to my question last time so thank you to everyone who commented on that. I'll consider from now on that everyone who don't like PMs will have blocked the function and I'll try to reply to most of my reviews :)

Now for the guests:

autumngold: We won't see what is happening in the Rebel camp for quite a while, I'm afraid, but we can indeed imagine that Moody was furious and you'll see what will happen with Neville in a couple of chapters. On the question of Draco describing how he felt, I hadn't thought to include it before you sent me this review, but it's a good idea and I will put it somewhere, but quite later. Harry and Draco will have a heart-to-heart at some point in the future and this will be part of it. You'll know then that it's your review that put that information there ;)

Guest: I'm afraid my point with this chapter was to precisely not buy Harry leather pants. Harry didn't just have a 'sexual awakening', or isn't trying to express anything through new looks, or really doesn't have other criteria for clothes than being functional for combat. So, no leather pants for the moment. Maybe later, as a surprise for Voldie? Hehe. We'll see :P

FanFictionLover: always so enthusiastic, as I can see. It's really nice for me to read that, even if I do think that you are a wee little bit exaggerating in your admiration for this story and for my talent as an author ^^' And yes, I do have trouble imagining Voldemort with anybody else than Harry now as well. I blame the awesome fanfics I've read with this pairing, hehe.

Visitor: Thank you very much! I see that the rattle has caught the imagination of a couple of readers, it's so funny :P

Warning: No leather pants and no new fantastic magical familiar for Harry

* * *

Chapter 18: 26th of July: Return to Diagon Alley

A few days passed without any other visits from the Dark Lord. A new routine was set up in the Manor to accommodate me. I hadn't asked for such changes, but it seemed like the three Malfoys all took it upon themselves to spend some time with me. The Malfoy heir, Draco, was particularly keen on dragging me outside for Quidditch games when the weather was favourable. It suited me just fine, since I loved flying and never had had an opportunity to do so on good-quality brooms. The experience was exhilarating and Draco, although he was spoilt and a bit of whiny, had a wicked sense of humour and a competitive streak of a mile long. It made the games even more interesting and I had ended up rolling in the grass in tears of laughter more times in the last few days than in my entire life.

Madam Malfoy, or Narcissa, as she insisted I call her, had also invested a considerable amount of her time dragging me to a parlour and sipping tea with me, making small conversations. She seemed like a cold person and rarely smiled, but I could remember her anguish and distress from the night I arrived with Draco, and I knew that this frosty veneer was a mask that she presented to the rest of the world. She even seemed to be warming up to me, going as far as to pat my head a bit condescendingly the day before when I headed to bed.

Minister Malfoy, even if he was a very busy man, often took a few hours in the evening to discuss his work, his projects and his ambitions for the Ministry. We had fascinating conversations on the changes of the 'new' regime and the man was a rich well of information on Wizarding culture and history. Our conversations were eye-opening for me since the Rebels had kept a lot of issues away from my ears throughout the years. I was grateful for the time Lucius gave me and the latter seemed strangely relaxed now in my presence. I supposed that, with time, they were all gradually taking down their public masks as they became more comfortable with me.

.

On the morning of the 26th, Narcissa, Draco and I went to Gringotts to open my vaults and record my will. It was good to be back to Diagon Alley after so long. The shops and little merchants hadn't changed a lot since the last time I came here. The only difference I could perceive was the presence of two Aurors patrolling up and down the road, looking bored and chatting from time to time with the shop-owners.

When we arrived in front of Gringotts, I had to swallow nervously. I had heard all sorts of stories back at the village about the Goblins' ruthlessness. We never tried to fool them to get access to our money. Sirius said that everyone who went to Hogwarts could only remember one thing of their History of Magic classes, and that was the bloody wars between Goblins and Wizards. That apparently was enough to make the Rebels fear the consequences of trying to fool them or steal from them. Personally, I always thought that those History of Magic classes sounded like they were gearing the Wizarding population for racism and prejudice against the Goblins. But, then again, I had never actually met any of them or took a History of Magic class, so who was I to judge?

Therefore, it was with slight apprehension and a determination to be flawlessly polite and respectful that I entered the bank. Funnily enough for someone who grew up practically in a slum, I was well educated in terms of manners and customs of the different species and cultures. Sirius always told me that this part of his Black upbringing might actually be useful to me if I ever needed to be an asylum-seeker in the aftermath of my Duel. After all, it was quite unlikely that Voldemort's administration would let his killer just settle into a peaceful life as a lobster fisherman without trying to throwing him in jail or sentence him to death before (not that I wanted to become a fisherman, it was just a random example).

I looked at the massive doors and saw my first Goblins standing guard beside them. They were indeed...striking and a bit intimidating. They sneered at us, despite the status and obvious wealth of those who accompanied me. I answered by tipping my head slightly forward in a gesture of respect. The one on the left frowned at me while the right one lifted a bushy eyebrow. They didn't say or do anything else as we passed them.

Inside, the bank was more magnificent and richly decorated than anything else I'd seen before. An enormous chandelier was floating in the center of the room, flooding it with its bright light and illuminating every corner. Tellers were spread in two rows facing each other and lines of witches and wizards were waiting to be served.

Narcissa and Draco went to the first one at the right, passing in front of everyone else who was waiting. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but I still followed them, keeping my mouth shut. Perhaps this was a rule of the Bank that they served certain key people before the rest of the population.

I watched the people waiting in the line that we had just overtaken. They looked like they wanted to protest at our behaviour, but had kept their mouth shut when they recognised Narcissa and Draco.

Our teller looked quite old and important. He looked at my hosts with a slight sneer before turning his gaze on me. I saw a flash of recognition pass through his eyes when he glanced up to my scar. I lifted a hand to flatten my hair on my forehead in what I hoped was a discreet movement. Narcissa gave a letter from her husband saying that my vaults were to be unfrozen.

It struck me as a bit unprofessional that she could just carry the Minister's permission in her pocket and deliver it herself. From what I knew of it, Lucius hadn't consulted with anybody else before unfreezing my vaults. The Dark Lord had requested it, so it was done. Perhaps there was a paperwork trail somewhere, but it had been done too fast for such a procedure... Yet again, what did I know of normal delays and procedures? I felt out of balance and uncomfortable with anything relating to governance and banking. I had grown up my whole life in an isolated village of activists and had just recently decided that they had the wrong idea. Did the outside world have the right one? Did they have better answers to the questions the Rebels were asking? I had no idea.

The Goblin took the letter and read through it. He called "Griphook!" and a Goblin apparently named Griphook came to stand next to him. The teller produced a key and gave it to me.

"Take Mister Potter to his vaults. They were unfrozen."

He turned to me. "And you, you don't get to withdraw more than a fifty Galleons per month and we will be tracking your transactions to make sure that you don't transfer money to foreign bank accounts that could potentially belong to Rebels. "

_Fifty Galleons? That's a lot of money! But...if I'm exonerated, shouldn't I have access to everything?_ I thought.

As if he heard me, he answered categorically: "An exoneration isn't the same thing as a clean slate for us."

He dismissed us with a brisk wave of his hand. I looked at Narcissa and Draco to see if this was a normal behaviour. They didn't seem shocked by it, but they were watching my reactions closely, trying to determine if I was angry at the restrictions, undoubtedly. I wasn't. I would only negotiate with Lucius to have full access of my vaults after the Duel if I was still alive. I would need my money then. For the moment, fifty Galleons per month was more than enough for everything I could possibly buy.

We followed Griphook to strange carts that looked like they belonged to a Muggle attraction park, minus the belts to keep the visitors secure. While the carts were speeding down, I tried to keep my balance without having a grip on anything. It was a bit tricky and I overcompensated for certain turns a few times, but it was an interesting exercise. Draco looked at me like I was crazy. Narcissa and him both had a hand gripping the side of the cart firmly, but they were outwardly calm and composed, of course.

When we arrived at my vault, I used my new key to open the door. The vast cavern was nearly empty. A small pile of gold stood in the middle of it.

Surely that wasn't all I had? Sirius had told me I had more than that. I turned to Griphook, who promptly explained:

"This is your trust vault and the only one to which you have access before you turn seventeen. As you can see, it's fairly depleted. That's the only thing we managed to save when we froze the vault. The Rebels took the rest to finance their activities. They would have taken from your other vaults as well, but they didn't have access to them either before you reached your maturity."

I breathed in and out slowly, closing my eyes. I didn't know what to think of this. On one hand, we really didn't have a lot of money at the village and I was glad that they used my money to keep us alive...on the other, how much of it was used for our survival, and how much went to shady transactions, bribes for favours and whatnot?

" And in my other vaults? I know I don't have access to them yet, but are they as empty as this one?

-The Potter Family Vault was left fairly untouched since the Potters died a few years before the Dark Lord's victory. The Black Vaults, however, were severely depleted between the 31st of October 1981 and a few days after the 3rd of April 1984, Victory Day, when they were frozen."

At these words, Narcissa Malfoy née Black shrieked in outrage.

"What! But the Blacks were one of the richest families in Britain!

-Waging a war and a rebellion have always been expansive endeavours, " replied Griphook, pragmatic.

Narcissa sniffed disdainfully. I lifted an eyebrow at her, surprised by her obvious reaction and then turned back to what remained of my money, sighting. There were only a few days before my birthday, after all, and this was more than enough to last until then, despite the Malfoys' plan for my new wardrobe.

They had apparently declared that my rags were unsuitable for their palace and that I should be dressed in something befitting my status. They didn't mention what this status was. Future dueller and potential killer of the Dark Lord? Official opposition to the Regime? Guests of the Malfoy? I didn't really care, but I could understand why they would be ashamed of being seen with someone who clearly looked poor. In the past days, Draco had lent me some of his old clothes, but they were ill-fitting. Draco was a bit taller than I was (weren't they all?) and less muscled, so they clung in certain places and were too long in others.

I took out a money bag and filled it as much as I could. Half of the pile was gone. I shrugged internally and turned back to the others to signal that I was done. When we went back up, we were directed to the Heritage department where I submitted the will I had prepared. I had done some changes on it since I left the Rebels.

Neville was scratched off my will with a flourish. I still couldn't believe that the one time he had enough guts to stand up for something, it was to prevent me to leave the village. Instead, I had left the contents of my Potter vaults to Moony.

Remus Lupin was one of my parents' best friends and he was my favourite uncle when he was still at the village. He left when I was about ten years old, however, because he didn't agree with the Rebels anymore. At the time, I didn't really understand why he was leaving me, but I had heard enough of shouted quarrels between Sirius and him to know that they had a lot of disagreements. I hadn't heard of the man since then, but I was confident that in this new regime of equality between wizards and werewolves, he would be safe and happy somewhere. I left the Potter vaults to him because they would have a special meaning to him, as opposed to anyone else who would just see them as a big pile of money.

.

This settled, Draco nearly dragged me to the clothing store. On the outside, he had his normal poise and public mask, but I had begun to know him enough to notice his small twitches and eager movements.

The next few hours were torture of the most boring kind. I just stood there doing nothing while they draped fabrics of various colours and materials on me. The whole process was punctuated by various comments of how this particular colour brought out my eyes, or how this particular fabric made me look mysterious or fetching. I personally didn't care. Sirius had tried to instil in me a sense of style and a taste for clothes that would make me project certain messages in the right circumstances, but that was one lesson that had entered in one ear and left immediately in the other. Draco looked like he took it very seriously, though. A bit too seriously, in my opinion. But I wasn't about to complain when someone did a tedious task for me and would make me look respectable without requiring me to do any effort.

So the hours passed slowly and I stood there like scarecrow in the middle of a field of fabrics and colours.

When we were done, at last, I moved to pay for the clothes, but Narcissa stopped me. She placed a hand on my arm and whispered to me "For saving Draco." as she paid. I was a bit embarrassed. I hadn't saved her son for her to repay me with clothes, after all. However, in the past few days, I had gotten a sense that the Malfoy family took debts very seriously. I supposed that if it helped them feel less guilty when their Lord killed me, I could endure the preferential treatment.

.

When we stepped out of the clothing shop, I glanced at the colourful joke shop a bit higher up the Alley. I told Draco and Narcissa that I'd just go in there quickly and that they should wait for me outside. They looked a bit hesitant to leave me alone, but they didn't want to enter the shop unless they were forced to, so they nodded their agreement and told me to be quick about it.

I hurried in, swiftly dodging the prank trap on the doorstep like last time and looking rapidly around. I just wanted to find the Ear display and leave my money on it without giving the twins enough time to notice me.

I had just spotted the display, which had moved slightly since I was there the last time, when one of the twins in another expensive looking suit came up to me. He eyed me up and down (I was in some of my new clothes) before bursting in laughter. I frowned at him, wondering what was so funny. I looked down at my new clothes and didn't see anything that warranted such a laugh.

The red hair came closer and slapped my shoulder.

"Don't worry, don't worry! You look like the perfect proper Pureblood. I just didn't expect a stuck-up heir to be able to dodge that prank trap."

I lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Me? A stuck-up heir? I think you're confusing me with my friend Draco who's waiting outside. He's the one who picked the clothes, anyway.

-Right, right." His smile widened impossibly. "Welcome then, I'm one half of the famous and gorgeous Weasley twins, Fred."

I frowned at him.

"I thought your names were Forge and Gred?" The words came out of my mouth before I could think of the implication of my words.

"Ha! He knows us! George! Come here! A friend of the Fancy Ferret knows of Forge and Gred!"

His twin came up to us as fast as he could.

"Hi" he said a bit breathlessly. " I don't remember ever seeing you here. I'm George, also known as Forge, or Gred, or awesome twin number one."

"Hey," protested Fred, " I'm awesome twin number one, you're number two..."

The two bickered a bit together. In the meanwhile, I was wondering how I would get out of this situation. Quite clearly, my original plan to just leave the place quickly without being noticed hadn't worked. I watched the twins' antics distractedly while wondering how to present this. Should I confess to stealing? Should I tell them it was a donation? A gift of two Galleons didn't seem credible.

I cleared my throat, getting their attention. They looked at me expectantly, with good-natured smiles on their faces. I just didn't have the heart to lie to them.

"Ehm...listen. A couple of years ago, I really needed something of your shop and didn't have the money for it. And I..." I exhaled noisily, gathering my courage. "I just took it, I'm sorry. But I promised myself that I would repay you as soon as I had some gold, and now I just got some so...here you go." I blurted, forcing two Galleons on the hand of Fred, who was the closest to me. I was about to turn away and leave the shop when a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

I turned around, face flaming and quite ashamed. The twins were looking at me in very serious faces.

" How did you do it without tripping the anti-theft wards?

-Er, they were already tripped that day because the Rebels had just attacked the Alley..." Surprise and understanding dawned on their faces at the same time.

"It was you...

-That tripped...

-The prank trap...

-And dodge it...

-That day.

-Were you also...

-The invisible man who saved the little boy?

-And who destroyed the Rebel wards?"

I nodded, looking to the side for a moment before turning back to them. They were watching me with barely veiled curiosity.

-You used our products to do some good then, right?" asked George.

"I don't really know if you can call it good, but I did use it to protect innocents as best I could..." _and to satisfy my morbid curiosity about the Dark Lord._

The twins exchanged a long look. Then Fred gripped my hand and put the two Galleons I had given them back in it. I looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"As far as we are concerned, you don't owe us anything. You repaid us that day when you protected Diagon Alley.

-What? But I have the money now; I finally can pay. I want to pay!"

They shook their heads in concert. Fred sighed and said:

"Ah, the hard life of a hero...

"Being showered with gifts and not even wanting them." completed George.

"Generous...

-Courageous...

-Adventurous...

-Anonymous...

-Audacious...

-Do you think we could charm Galleons to sing in the honour of the Invisible hero?" suggested George.

"Ohhh, then we could have all types of songs and it would be some type of "collect all the Chocolate Frogs cards" concept, except that they wouldn't be pictures, they'd be songs about notorious people?

-Or notorious events? Then we could get parents to buy them for their kids because they would be educational as well!"

- Maybe they could also turn the skin of everyone else but their owner's in various colours? " Fred exclaimed.

By now, I was looking outside trying to see if the Malfoys were still there waiting for me. I really had to go. I told as much to the twins, who looked devastated at my hasty departure.

"Come back to steal from us whenever you want!" They shouted at my back too loudly for my taste. I felt myself flush in embarrassment. When I reached the Malfoys, they lifted an eyebrow at the same time (_What was it with powerful people and their eyebrows? They were contaminating me with that habit_) and I shook my head, not wanting to answer questions about what happened in there.

.

o0o0o

When we returned at the Manor, Lucius had already come back from his day at the office. He smiled slightly when he saw the amount of bags we were carrying and the exasperated look on my face.

"The Dark Lord hates shopping as well." he revealed casually.

That comment brought me out of my tiredness quite swiftly.

"The Dark Lord goes shopping?" I exclaimed, unable to hide my surprise.

I had this absurd image of the regal man strolling about in a Muggle shop idly looking for new red contacts lenses or searching for a new cape, trying it on in front of mirrors and twirling around to check its effect. 'Hum, not intimidating enough, I'll take the dark blue one that looks like it was splashed with blood. Yes, that one shall do,' proclaimed my imaginary Voldemort.

"Well...He allows preselected masters crafters and artisans to show him their merchandise all at the same time. Then he picks the first few things that catch his eye and waves them off. As far as I know, the only type of shopping he genuinely enjoys is searching for obscure books for his research in second-hand shops and in small bookstores in remote locations around the world. He likens it to treasure hunting.

-He's quite passionate about his magical research, then? It's not the first time I heard you refer to it."

Somehow, the image I had had for most of my life of a permanently angry Dark Lord frightening the Wizarding World into submission didn't fit at all with the intense man I had met a few days before. I supposed it was quite normal that he should be better known for his duelling prowess than for his amazing discoveries in various fields of Magic. It went to show how much magical strength was important for gaining respect of the Wizarding population. It also showed that the man was as intelligent and creative as he was powerful and imposing.

The weight of my Task was suddenly unbearable. How was I, a poor boy who would barely be an adult, with nary a feat to my name (I didn't count my supposed resistance to a Killing curse as an exploit since I didn't do anything consciously for that), supposed to kill him? To murder someone who was bringing so much to this society...

Yes, not everything was perfect in this government, but he was making so many things better. The only thing I could say for my defense is that I felt compelled to actively seek for a speedy conclusion to my 'Destiny'.

.

I heard Lucius clear his throat and it snapped out of my depressing thoughts. He was looking at me closely, his head cocked slightly to the side and his eyes narrowed.

"You know, the Prophecy isn't well-known outside of the Death Eaters and the Rebellion. Should you not carry it out, I have no doubt that you would be able to live a quiet and comfortable life out of the public eye without suffering any condemnation from the rest of the population."

I snorted, disbelieving.

"As if your Lord is going to let me go peacefully...

-Has he ever told you that he planned to seek you out and kill you?

-No, but..."

Lucius interrupted me, shaking his head.

"You don't know him. I wonder how you can play with your life so carelessly. Every decision you took concerning him was based on preconceived notions you had of the man. I suggest that you get to know him a bit better. You might be surprised by what you will discover. He isn't the blood-crazed sadist he used to be."

I felt my eyebrows lift high on my forehead and my eyes widen in disbelief. I was shocked to the core by what Lucius had said, partly because he echoed some of what the Dark Lord himself had declared in our previous conversation and partly because it just went to reinforce the doubts I already had about my 'Task' and the Duel.

Had I painted myself in a dangerous corner uselessly?

.

I saw Lucius turn briskly on his heels and walk away from me. At the village, people always spoke derogatorily of Minister Malfoy. They said he was vain, cold-blooded, narcissistic, brutal, biased and unfair. I had seen in the past days that, if he could be all of that, he was also a loyal and hard-working man, a caring husband and father, an intelligent and strategic mind and overall a very dedicated and talented Minister. Was the fact that he wasn't elected by a fair vote enough to justify wanting to replace him by someone who would probably do a worse job than him?

Why should it be up to me, a sixteen years old boy, to make or break the new regime?

Left alone with my thoughts, I had no answers to my endless questions. I could see that I hadn't changed so much in the past few years, however. "Why does it have to be me?" was still my most frequent complaint in life...

.

o0o0o

In a flat in Diagon Alley, just above their store, two twins were conferring seriously, sitting at their living room table with a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Well, Gred," said one.

"Well, Forge," answered the other.

"Do you think he was the one they talked to us about?

-I hope not, because I liked him...

-Me too, I did. I felt like we could have been friends, had things gone differently." confessed Forge, slouching slightly in his chair.

"We knew there were gonna be sacrifices to make..." started Gred.

-For the future we want to achieve. I know." Forge completed, sighing.

-Do you regret it?" asked Gred. Forge shook his head.

-There's no turning back now."

The two twins looked at each other before nodding resolutely.

"For Charlie." said one, solemnly.

"For Charlie, may his soul return to Magic where he belongs," answered the other.

They lifted their glass at the same time and emptied it in one go in honour of the dead.

* * *

Anddd, the plot thickens. The last bit of this chapter was added at the request of one of my reviewers. I hope this will satisfy you for the moment, although it's a bit different than what you asked for. ^^

I hope you all liked my version of shopping ;) I might have built a bit of false anticipation there, ouhh, naughty me. Haha!

Next chapter will have some duelling between Harry and the Malfoys!

Thank you in advance for reviewing and for telling me what you think of this!


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you so much to my reviewers and everybody who favourited and followed this story! I appreciate the support. Keep it up, I love it! :)

Autumngold: The Dark Lord isn't tame. He is trying to seduce Harry to his side by making him believe that everything Harry thought he knew about him was false. Lucius is helping him with it. Voldemort isn't insane anymore because his youngest soul piece stabilised him when he got his body back years ago, but he isn't a softie either. He's just a good manipulator.

FanFictionLover: Alright, alright, I believe you :) It's still a bit difficult for me to accept such praise of my modest skills ^^

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Chapter 19: 31st of July 1997, Part One: Mock duels

The next few days had passed swiftly. Nothing of importance was said between Harry and Lucius, partly because the latter wanted to allow some reflection time to the younger man. And he could see that Harry was indeed quite preoccupied by the questions turning around in his mind.

The Dark Lord hadn't talked to the young man again, even if Lucius could feel that the man itched for another exchange between the two of them. Lucius had gone to him the day before to report his conclusions about Harry and his Master had looked particularly pleased with his words to Harry and their effect on him. He had told Lucius that he would come and visit him again the day after to introduce Harry to his new tutor. If the young man wanted to take his NEWTs any time soon, he would need one, after all, and none of his Death Eaters, who all either had highly placed functions in his government or were mentally unstable, had time for such a task.

Lucius was a bit worried by the interest his Master had toward Harry. He had noticed that the fascination was mutual as well, so this didn't bode well for Harry's chances of resisting to the Dark Lord's charisma. The young man might be mature for his age, but he would probably be devastated when he would be thrown aside after a few nights, like so many had been before. He thanked Magic every day that he was strictly heterosexual and had a lovely wife. The Dark Lord's power was intoxicating and mouth-watering, but he had never been particularly affected by his Master's beauty and elegance. His young guest was not as lucky, however. Perhaps it would be a better idea for him to give up the Duel altogether. It would make him less conflicted. It wasn't as if Harry stood a chance anyway.

There was also the matter of the living quarters. Lucius actually liked having the young man in his house. It gave Draco something to do and Harry was one of the only child the age of his son that wasn't in awe before him either because of his Malfoy good looks, prestige or richness. Salazar knew that Draco needed someone who wouldn't treat him as the next coming of Merlin on Earth. And their developing friendship was beneficial to both of them, if Harry's increasingly relaxed demeanour was anything to go by. He had surprised the two boys laughing together often when he arrived from a long day in the office, and the joy that resonated through the Manor was the best welcome he ever had in his home. He couldn't wait to see if a new addition to the new family would have the same effect. Perhaps a little daughter to shower with gifts and attention, this time. He still had yet to talk of his plan with Narcissa. He dearly hoped that she would agree with him...

o0o0o

The day after, Lucius, who was once again heading for an early breakfast, heard sounds of a fight coming from the training room. By now, he knew that Harry liked to train every morning and sometimes even for a second time in the evening, so he wasn't overly concerned by the noise. However, it sounded as if someone was shouting spells back at the boy. Lucius decided to go and investigate.

When he arrived at the door, he decided against Disillusioning himself. He had already established that Harry could always sense him, regardless of if he was visible or not. He opened the door silently...and was quite shocked by the sight that greeted him.

Harry was duelling his son. No, Harry was playing and Draco was barely keeping up with the younger wizard. He had trained Draco in the duelling arts as much as he could, really, but his son had grown up mostly during a time of peace so there wasn't the same need, the same urgency in his training than Lucius' own had had. Lucius had been brought up by his father to participate in a war, to kill, to win his deathly fights and duels. Draco had been trained enough to beat his opponents in friendly duels at Hogwarts, to not embarrass himself in dangerous situations and to be able to defend himself should the need arise.

Harry Potter had trained all his life to kill the Dark Lord. The difference between the two boys' fighting style was quite apparent. They were both brought up with different needs, different skills in mind. Draco was forced on the defensive, protecting himself continuously because he feared potential injuries. Harry was skating around the spells, flirting with danger with the practised ease of someone who had a lot of fighting experience, of someone who had nothing to loose, ultimately.

That was also perhaps the biggest difference between his Lord's fighting style and Harry's. Harry wasn't afraid of dying, of taking risks. His Lord had too much to loose to be so reckless. He was also the type to want to stay graceful, to appear immutable even in a fight. He now fought most of the time to impress a crowd, or to prove his superiority. In a duel, his feet would be firmly entrenched in the ground to show his opponent that he was better than them and that he didn't need to roll around on the ground and dodge left and right. He would be like an unbreakable statue, an all-powerful deity on Earth.

Harry, however, was moving around, exploiting his space to the maximum and dodging as much as he could to preserve his magical energy. His movements were quick and fluid like water most of the time, but sometimes jerky and abrupt when he needed them to be. At the moment, he was only using low-powered basic spells, but Lucius knew that the young man most likely had a deathly arsenal in store in case the fight became more serious.

Draco was panting, throwing himself painfully right and left, absorbing the wrong spells in his shield and dodging useless ones. He was clearly in over his head. He was also probably too exhausted to come up with an appropriate strategy at this point. Harry was making him run around in circles around him while he stayed there, analysing Draco's movements.

When a Cutting hex flew over to his son without Draco noticing it, Lucius stepped in with a short flick of his wand. Enough was enough. He wouldn't let his heir be beaten in front of him without intervening.

Harry sent him a knowing glance.

He had probably shot this Cutting spell on purpose, the devious child.

Lucius wouldn't say that he was out of shape, but he was a bit rusty. He joined in the fight with a clear head and with the intention to prove that, as one of the Dark Lord's best lieutenants during the War, he wouldn't be beaten so easily.

.

However, he realised early in the fight that he had underestimated his young guest as well. Seeing that he now had two opponents, Potter quickly took Draco out of the fight by Stupefying him and pushing him in a corner of the room. Lucius was too busy defending himself against vicious vines to help his son. When he managed to incinerate them, Potter was already done with getting rid of his younger opponent and had turned all his attention on him. His eyes were completely focused and determined, and glowing with his magical sight.

Harry shot a chain of spells at him that seamlessly flowed one after the other. Lucius dodged most of it, but was forced to absorb the last two of the chain in his shield and they hit it with a resounding impact. He retaliated with a fire whip and tried to wrap it around one of Potter's leg but the later jumped and shot a water spurt at the whip before landing back on his feet like a panther and shoting him a Bludgeoning spell and a Cutting hex at the same time, one slightly to his right and the other to the left side of his body. Lucius dodged the right, evaluating that the Bludgeoning spell would be less draining to block than the Cutting one. Potter had apparently predicted his move because the Bludgeoning spell was overpowered and resonated with a deep sound on his vibrating shield.

Lucius, not to be undone so quickly, conjured seven sharp blades in a swift move and shot them at the youth in all possible directions. Harry turned on his side, making the knifes heading to his sides pass without touching him, crouched slightly to dodge the blade heading for his head and pushed downwards with his wand making the knife aimed to his knees clatter on the ground. Then he Summoned Lucius' blades and shot them back to their creator in a quick succession. Lucius had to spend a considerable amount of energy to block their quick approach or to dodge them one by one.

In the meanwhile, Harry had had time to ponder his next move, which made the ground under his opponent's feet crumble to dust and change into a sort of glue after Lucius had sunk in it.

The Minister used the water from Harry's earlier spell, adding to it and freezing the ground, hoping to make the younger man slip on the ice. Harry transfigured his shoes into ice skates and gained even more mobility. They exchanged curses and he only had to slightly twist to the side for his whole body to move completely out of the way. Lucius was still stuck in the ground and steadily loosing his magical stamina. He tried to end the duel quickly by shooting deathly dark curses at Harry, hoping that the latter would surrender when confronted with those disproportionately dangerous spells.

But Harry only skirted out of the way on his ice skates and muttered counter-curses to the ones who were target seeking. He then shot an overpowered Blasting spell at Lucius that shattered his shield noisily and followed it a fraction of second after by a Binding charm and a Disarming spell.

Lucius conceded his defeat. He hadn't been so thoroughly bested since his last duel with the Dark Lord. A small voice inside of him whispered that perhaps Harry Potter stood a chance against his Master, in the end. They had completely different styles and the Dark Lord was far more experienced and vicious...but Harry had stayed in control of their fight the whole time, always one move ahead of him. And he was just standing there, looking a bit dishevelled by all his dodging, perhaps, but not even breathing heavily. He could have continued on fighting for quite a while. Not to mention that he had been duelling his son for who knew who long beforehand.

Lucius was the one who had used draining and demanding spells. Conjuring those daggers had been a bad idea. It took too much concentration to conjure solid objects during battle and Harry had turned his magic against him too easily without tiring himself nearly as much.

No, Lucius had utterly underestimated his opponent. He had been fooled by his young appearance and his seeming naïvety. He had thought that, since Harry was so uncertain about the direction of his life in general, he would be a weak opponent.

But there was strength in second guessing oneself. It showed adaptability, it showed that Harry didn't take anything for granted or for absolute truths, it showed that he had an investigating and sceptical mind. It showed that he might believe whatever lies you say to him at first, but that he would catch it at the first misstep you made. This wasn't an impressionable youth that one could easily manipulate.

At the corner of his vision, he saw his Lord standing there, watching Harry attentively with evaluating eyes. He knew what his Lord's conclusion would be. They had to revise their strategy. They had both underestimated Harry Potter...

* * *

Just how strong is Harry? Could he really defeat the Dark Lord?

Next chapter, we will see Harry's POV on the duel, the identity of his tutor...and there will be HPLV slash! It will be a very diverse, very long and important chapter!

People, the time has come! Show some enthusiasm if you want some slash now! I had originally planned it to be in two chapters, but I'm offering it to you next chapter if you show me that you want it now! ;)

Thanks in advance for reviewing! ^^


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Wow! Great and nearly unanimous push for immediate gratification by slash, hum hum...interesting! Dear reviewers, you have convinced me! Long and filled chapter coming up! Do try to comment on all of it and not just the last part, oki? :P

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed this story! Keep it up! I want to know what you think of it! :)

autumngold: I'm afraid I won't show LV's POV of the duel. He might think back on it in later chapters, though. I do not think that I've made Harry a fool in this chapter. He's just a bit disillusioned and pessimistic :P

FanFictionLover: The time has come! Are you ready? Do you think you can handle it? I can't wait to see the amount of squealing I'll read in your review :P

Boblove321: Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic review :)

Warning: mild slash. I haven't marked it, but I don't think it's explicit enough to shock anybody reading it. I might be a bit desensitized because of all the slash I've read here, though :P

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Chapter 20: 31st of July, Part Two: Birthday boy

When I woke up that day, I knew that it wouldn't be a nice day. It my first birthday without Sirius. Usually, my godfather would make me up by transforming into a dog and licking my face disgustingly until I woke up.

On the morning of my 17th birthday, I was alone in a large, empty bed. The sun was shining outside and the window at my right was opened to let the summer breeze roll in. By anyone's standards, it was a beautiful day. I would have preferred if there had been a real tempest outside, at least it would have reflected my mood.

I hadn't told anybody here that it was my birthday. Why would I? It's not as if any of the Malfoys genuinely cared about me anyway. There were just trying to repay me for saving Draco's life. And I hadn't seen the Dark Lord in a few days...Okay, I hadn't seen the Dark Lord since our weird conversation exactly a week ago. After talking to him twice in such a short time, I had thought that Voldemort's next visit would be sooner. But when a week had passed without seeing even a hint of the man, I begun to wonder if I had said something that would make him angry at me. I had been quite disrespectful, after all. I couldn't help myself around him. I was either docile and awed, or furious and rude to compensate (or overcompensate) for my pathetic previous attitude.

In my past few days of reflection, I had concluded that my peculiar reactions to him would always be there. I just had to differentiate between recognising that I was attracted to him and acting like a fool. I just had to be mature about it.

I rolled around in the bed, burying my face in the fluffiest pillow I've ever had. I didn't want to get up. I knew that I would be jittery all day long. In the past few days, I had tried to burn as much energy and magic as I could, but really, not being able to train my magic in a combat situation for so long was putting me on edge. A twist of stress churning in my belly made me abruptly get off my bed, dress up in training clothes and head downstairs.

o0o0o

I had barely begun warming up when Draco entered the room that I had used for training in the past week. It surprised me because usually Draco only got up much later.

I glanced at him. He was scrutinising me again. He had done so for the past few days and that didn't help my already frazzled nerves. I missed the easy companionship of our first days.

"What?" I snapped.

"Do you really think you will be able to beat the Dark Lord if you don't practice your duelling anymore?" I lifted a brow at him.

"With whom could I practice? You'd all report back to him directly the second you'd see me fight.

-I wouldn't," said Draco, his head bowed down slightly, looking at the ground.

"Why not?" I asked, surprised.

"Because I want to practice too. I mean, my father has trained me a lot before, but I could use more practice. I could help you.

-Why help me when it would directly go against the Dark Lord? Don't you want him to win?

-Of course I want him to win your duel; he's my Lord, after all...But I really don't think that a few training sessions with me could influence the outcome of the fight."

I looked at him, considering. On one hand, Draco would probably go straight to the Dark Lord and show him a detailed memory of our fights and that would make me lose some of my element of surprise.

On the other hand, I was feeling restless and I did need to train my magic.

Overall, I thought that the compromise was worth it. I'd just have to keep a couple of tricks up my sleeve for the final duel.

When I agreed to Draco's offer, I was also curious to see the other boy's skill level. He had gone to Hogwarts, after all, and was probably just as capable as I would have been had I gone there...

.

I concluded after the first few spells that I was quite happy I didn't go to Hogwarts in the end. Draco's technique was as arrogant, conservative and unfocused as the teen himself. Not a good combination. After a couple of frustrating minutes of basic spells and elementary tactics, I quickly grew bored. I started to analyse Draco's moves to try to make him react in certain ways.

At one point, I decided that I would make Draco slip on a banana peel. I knew the Muggle joke from one of the rare movies I had seen with Sirius, and my godfather had found it so funny at the time that he had tried with all his Marauder might to make me slip on one as soon as possible. After days of nearly tripping on banana peels littering the floors of our house and everywhere I went, I had decided to purposely make myself slip once to make him leave me alone. I have never heard Sirius laugh so hard of my entire life. I nearly feared for his life at one point.

At the time, I hadn't really got what was so funny about the joke, but duelling with Draco now, and seeing him grow more and more flustered, made me think it was the best time to try it. It was probably my last birthday, after all, so I was entitled to do every test I wanted. I knew I didn't have much chance to surviving my Duel with the Dark Lord, realistically...

Draco's face when the refined, normally poised pureblood slipped on the ground was the most hilarious thing I had ever seen in my life. His widened eyes and gaping mouth as he slowly tilted sideways and fell on his side, glancing around frantically without understanding what had just happened was already wonderfully funny, but the look on his face when he saw the banana peel was what made me explode in laughter.

Draco had then hastily picked himself up and vanished the squashed peel with an angry wave of his wand. And he attacked me with a renewed determination and fury. _Ah, that's more like it..._

I was just about to conclude the duel when I felt Lucius enter the room. _Hmm, this could be interesting..._I thought. I purposely send a dissimulated cutting hex towards Draco to make Lucius get in the fight.

It turned out that the Minister, while undoubtedly better than his son, was no match, in his current state at least, for how Sirius and Kingsley had been before their deaths. He had interesting moves, however, and I did get to test my ice-skating theory in a combat situation, which I had wanted to do for quite a while now.

If only the Dark Lord had let himself weaken as much since the war, my 'Task' would be quite easy. Just as I thought that, I felt the oppressing aura surround me and saw the now familiar colour of Voldemort's magic permeate the room. I skirted around a few curses while I pondered what to do. I didn't want to fight when the Dark Lord could see me and analyse my every moves.

Lucius's feet were already stuck in the ground. The aristocrat looked a bit panicked beneath his cool mask. I clearly saw when he took the decision to try to finish the duel hastily before his position could disadvantage him too much.

It went with my plan perfectly. I just twisted around a bit and countered a couple of his curses before I took him down with some easy spells I had learnt when I was about twelve. The Dark Lord wouldn't get any more information on my skills from this duel. I did feel a bit bad about humiliating Lucius with the cheap ending, however.

I bowed to him ceremoniously, to let him know that I didn't mean the disrespect and undid the Binding charm and the little Quicksand spell I had placed under his feet. The Minister exhaled silently and got back up on the now firm ground.

I went up to him and presented him, handle first, the wand that I had plucked from the air after my Disarming spell. He took it, bowing back to me slightly to let me know that no harm was done and that he wasn't angry with me.

.

Suddenly, I heard clapping. I turned around. The Dark Lord stood at my right, smirking slightly at me.

"Impressive," he said to me before he turned to his Minister. "Lucius, had I known that your work in the Ministry would weaken you so, I would have thought twice before nominating you. It was a deplorable display. I was expecting more from you."

Lucius bowed his head in shame and I thought I even saw him colour a bit.

"You are right as always, my Lord. I have become perhaps a bit indolent during all those years of paperwork. I saw today that my son and I would both need to take a page out of Mister Potter's book and train more assiduously."

The Dark Lord titled his head to the side, as if pondering something.

"Perhaps I should reconvene my Death Eaters and make them work on their magic. One never knows when they will need the skills. Perhaps a battle against the Rebels is imminent, after all."

Lucius nodded quickly and went to Enervate and free Draco from the spells I put him under.

Voldemort turned to me, a smirk stretching slowly his handsome face.

"Rest assured that you will find me an indisputably more challenging opponent, should we go through with this Duel business."

I frowned at him.

"Don't you mean 'when we duel'?

-Well, we wouldn't have to duel if one of us forfeits beforehand."

I knew that he meant me when he said 'one of us'. It infuriated me.

"I'm the one who challenged you at first! I'm certainly not going to give up and be at your mercy! You'd just ask for my life, or you'd enslave me and torture me, or something! "

The Dark Lord looked at me closely.

"Perhaps not. I never said I wanted to kill you. I would have done so years ago if that was my intention."

I stilled and stood there rigidly. I felt shaken to the core. He had previously hinted that I didn't know what he wanted and that he didn't necessarily want to kill me, but he had nearly confirmed it just now!

"What would you want from me if I forfeited?"

He smirked again, glee flashing in his eyes for a second.

"Ah, dear Harry, perhaps I would ask for you to join my harem? It wouldn't be too harsh a demand, no?"

I felt myself flush suddenly, and then become angry.

"Stop joking around with your stupid harem! I'm worth more than that! I'd commit suicide before I let myself be degraded to being one of your concubines!"

Voldemort's eyes flashed in anger. He walked over to me briskly.

"You are not, under any circumstances, to kill yourself! Do you understand, Potter?"

I felt pain like a sharp stab coming from my forehead. I plastered my hand over my scar.

"By the gods, stop it with your stupid telepathic magic! Ok, ok, I won't kill myself. Happy, now? Merlin...Why wouldn't you want me to die anyway? Wouldn't that settle the problem? You would be rid of your 'prophesied enemy'..."

The Leader of the British Wizarding World exhaled and rubbed his forehead a bit tiredly.

"Do you know how vague this Prophecy is? It doesn't mention a name, it just says 'the Dark Lord' and, as much as I like to believe that I'll be on this planet for a while, I don't think I'll be the last Dark Lord in the history. There are two other Dark Lords in the world in the moment and another one in Brazil is rising to power. Why would the Prophecy be about me or even about Britain? And how should I know what constitutes 'defying me thrice' in the eyes of Magic? Maybe cursing at me when someone reads the newspaper at their kitchen table and sees something they don't like counts as defying me. It also doesn't mention a year for 'your' birth either. Should I kill every child born around the end of July just because they could potentially be another 'Chosen One'?" He paused slightly and shook his head. "The bottom line is that I'll never be short of people wanting me dead and I can't start pre-emptively killing everybody who might attack me. I just have to stay on my guard and be ready to face opposition at any time. That's the best I can do."

It made sense, oddly. I found myself agreeing with the Dark Lord. Anyone in a position of power had people who hated them or wanted them dead. Suddenly, I didn't know how to feel anymore. I was empty, devoid of emotions.

"Now, are you coming?" asked Voldemort.

I probably missed the first part of what he said. My feet followed him automatically as he left the training room.

"Where are we going?

-You're following me and you don't know?

-I zoned out for a bit. You're really confusing, you know...I think you're bipolar."

The Dark Lord barked a laugh.

"Why do you say that?" He asked.

"One minute you're all smirking at me and teasing me, and the next you're angry and attacking me with your weird powers. And then you say you don't even want to kill me! I don't believe you about that, by the way...

-Well, if you want to know, we are heading to Lucius' study because I want to introduce you to your new tutor. I know you should be able to pass some of your OWLs or NEWTs as you are now, but you don't necessarily know the theory or the type of questions they will ask, hence the need for a tutor.

It was a good idea and it would probably make me pass my exams more swiftly. I needed the qualifications for after the duel...which I should survive because the Dark Lord apparently didn't want me dead? Or would he still kill me during the duel but just wanted to insist that he wouldn't have actively hunted me down had I not challenged him? I was confused. The Honour's Duel could only finish in death or forfeit, after all. Why was he trying to make me forfeit instead of just killing me?

-Yeah, ok. I agree with the idea. I just hope you didn't chose one of your Death Eaters to tutor me, though. I don't think I'd get along well with them."

Voldemort lifted an eyebrow at me.

"You seem to go along reasonably well with Lucius, no?

-Yeah, but that's different. He kinda grows on you, don't you think?

-I'm not sure what you mean. He is a good follower, however, I'll concede as much."

I burst out laughing at his admission. It was so...mild.

I suddenly had a bit of a dangerous idea...but it was my birthday, after all, so I was allowed a bit of recklessness. I caught up with the Dark Lord and walked beside him. I grinned at him and he looked at me cautiously.

I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, smirking, and said in a teasing voice:

"Are you sure he's just a follower? With all those years of close collaboration, one would think that you might be...friends?

-Ahhh, Harry, Harry, let me tell you something." He put his left arm around my shoulders and bended his head closer to mine, looking me in the eye. I could feel my body tingling where his arm and side were pressed against me. The fabric of his robes was soft against my right hand and I suddenly felt pleasantly warm. I longed to just turn around and bury myself against his body. The man's magic was swirling all around me, swaddling me in a secure cocoon.

"You can never have enough respect for the people who are terrified of you to consider them as friends. Lucius might not seem so bad now, but the minute I become slightly angry or frustrated, he reverts to being nothing more than a grovelling minion... And besides, I don't need friends. It's a solitary life I've chosen for myself, but I don't think I would be satisfied with anything else.

-Aren't you lonely sometimes, at the top of your Mountain?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"To be perfectly honest with you, I'm more bored than lonely. I never was a very sociable person; I don't need other people's company to feel satisfied. However, you do make my life more entertaining, brat, I'll grant you that much. I don't think I have laughed as much since the times of my Victory, all those years ago." He revealed, with a small smile at the corner of his lips.

I felt a warm wave of satisfaction and delight engulf me. I was touched by his words, despite the little voice in my head that was still screaming at me that Voldemort was my enemy. I looked at this powerful man who had a smile on his face and faint creases at the corner of his eyes and I didn't feel one ounce of animosity in me directed toward him at the moment. I smiled back at him tentatively. He squeezed my shoulders once, before dropping his arm off me altogether. I looked around, noticing that we had arrived in front of Lucius' study at some point during out talk.

The Dark Lord cleared his throat, capturing my attention again and asked:

"Ready to meet your tutor, Harry?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. I just hoped it wasn't anyone unpleasant.

.

o0o0o

I opened the door of Lucius' study to find out who would be my tutor in the next few months. I dearly hoped it was someone with whom I would be able to get along well.

The suspense of the door slowly opening was killing me all of a sudden, so I just pushed it out of the way and quickly entered the room.

There was a man sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk. He turned around to face me and I recognised him in a flash. I hadn't seen him for seven years at least.

My feet carried me to him in haste and I threw myself in his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Moony! I can't believe it's you!" I shouted, overwhelmed with happiness.

He tightened his arms around me, rubbing my back soothingly. When he pulled away, his face was lighted up by a kind smile.

"I'm so glad to see you again, my Prongslet. You haven't changed one bit since I last saw you."

I pretended to be offended.

"Moony! That's not true, I grew up a lot! I'm nearly your height now, look!" I exclaimed, drawing a line between the top of my head and his temple.

He ruffled my hair affectionately. I felt like I was ten again.

" Happy birthday, Harry. I'm so happy to have the chance to be with you again. I would have contacted you before, but I was on probation and closely monitored after I left the village. I wish I had a gift for you, but the Dark Lord didn't tell me beforehand who exactly I'd be tutoring here."

I suddenly remembered my surroundings. I turned to the Dark Lord, who by now was sitting on Lucius' throne of a chair and looking a bit annoyed at Remus. When he saw me looking, however, he smirked quite smugly at me. I beamed at him.

"You arranged this? How did you know I was close to Remus?

-Well, when he left the Rebels, we Legilimensed him to make sure he was sincere about his change of allegiance and his only regret was to leave you and your godfather behind. I had forgotten about him, to be honest, but when I saw his name in the list of available tutors, I thought it would give you an occasion to reconnect. Now, sit down for a while. I just want to go through a few details concerning your studies with both of you."

I calmed down marginally, but I still felt a bit hyper. We discussed schedules and subjects and determined that I wouldn't need instruction in Defense or in Charms, since I was more advanced than the Hogwarts curriculum in them. Transfiguration and Herbology needed a bit of polish, but the main issue would probably be Potions. I was abysmal at it. We set the time of our first tutoring lesson for the following Monday and soon Remus had to leave again. I wanted more time to catch up with him, but I thought my questions could wait a few days. The meeting was concluded shortly after.

.

o0o0o

When Remus left, Voldemort closed the door behind him before turning to me.

I suddenly couldn't contain myself anymore. I jumped up from my chair and threw my arms around the man to express my overwhelming gratitude for his wonderful gift. He staggered a bit backwards at the unexpected assault, but soon closed his arms around me in return.

I felt so comfortable. I was shamelessly basking in the man's warmth and soothing magic, soaking it up in the few seconds I was allowed close to him. I felt something inside me purr in contentment. Any seconds now, I'd probably be pushed away roughly and treated coldly for disrespecting him. So I relished in the moment.

When I was pushed back, I cautiously looked at his facial expression. He didn't look angry with me. That was a good sign. But he looked like he was pondering something serious.

I coughed nervously, looking around a bit and scratching my tingling scar distractedly before focusing on him again.

"Thank you so much! It's the best birthday gift I ever had!" I beamed at him again, returning easily to my happy mood. His lips seemed to start smiling back at me automatically before he controlled his expression.

He sighed a bit and looked at me considerately.

"Alas," he exclaimed over-dramatically, "it was but a most fortuitous coincidence. I didn't know that is was your birthday. And I'm quite certain that you didn't tell either of the Malfoys, because if you had, you would probably be dancing right now in a ball thrown in your honour."

I flushed a bit in embarrassment and muttered:

"Thank the gods I didn't tell them, then. A ball is the last thing I want.

-Ah? You are not partial to dancing, then?" he enquired. I felt a bit awkward, suddenly.

"No, well, I wouldn't know. I've never really danced." He looked again as if he was wondering about something.

"I would like to offer you something else for your birthday, Harry. Is there anything you wish for? Anything you desire?" His eyes were now completely focused on me and his voice had acquired back its velvety quality. I felt an indescribable tension rise between us. I looked at him, hesitating on what to answer.

He lifted his left hand and lowered it slowly on my right shoulder, cupping my neck slightly. His thumb caressed the bare skin of my neck, making the sensitive skin tingle at the slightest movement.

I swallowed nervously and felt myself flush with sudden arousal. I looked up to his eyes. They were looking at me hungrily.

_Why would this powerful man want me? It must be a spur of the moment thing. He'll probably change his mind in a few minutes._

I felt a pang of disappointment at the thought.

_I should take advantage of it while it lasts. It's my birthday, and I want a kiss. I've dreamed about kissing him for years and now he stands there and he looks willing enough... _

My eyes flickered down to his lips before looking back up to his eyes.

_Fuck this, fuck consequences, it's my seventeenth birthday and I'm not an honorary Gryffindor for nothing._

I licked my lips again and began to move my head towards his.

.

One second, I was there, a bit hesitant but resolved, and the next, his lips were on mine, devouring me hungrily and forcefully. I felt as if the world had tilted on its axis. My eyes had automatically closed to feel better the silk of his lips deliciously rubbing against mine. His left hand, which was grasping my neck lightly, slid up to bury itself in my hair, pulling me closer to his face. His right hand was pressing me against him and slowly trailing down from my waist to my hip. I felt myself collide with something solid behind and hazily concluded that the Dark Lord had shoved me against the door of Lucius' study. But I was far too gone to care.

This was a universe away from anything I had ever felt. Cedric's kiss seemed like a joke, a parody of this one. The dreams that my feeble imagination had conjured also paled in comparison to the real thing.

It was as if I could feel everything all at once. I was overwhelmed by the sensations and at the same time I found my mind strangely detached from the situation, analysing everything.

I moaned under the assault of his talented lips and he took advantage of it to slide his tongue in my mouth and continue his exploration there. Our tongues brushed and then fought together passionately while I felt my magic rise inside of me and intertwine with the Dark Lord's powerful energy. I was running on instincts only, but I managed to hold my own for a while before finally submitting to his demanding tongue. The thought of that mouth exploring my body made me shiver.

My hands, which at the beginning had hung uselessly at my side, automatically lifted and brushed the Dark Lord's waist, continuing up to his chest before gripping his robes tightly and pulling him to me forcefully. I heard him hum in approval and suddenly felt empowered and triumphant. I, Harry Potter, had made Lord Voldemort lose some of his control and moan. I kissed him with renewed energy. As if he had heard my smug thoughts, he suddenly slid his right hand from my hip to my butt, squeezing it hard and startling a surprised gasp from me. He used that hand to pull me even more tightly against him while his chest squashed me against the door. I could feel his arousal pressing against mine and I rocked into his body reflectively, causing a delicious friction.

His mouth abruptly left my lips and his left hand lowered from my hair.

_No, no! Don't stop so soon, please!_ I begged in my head.

He lowered his head at the crook of my neck and bit down harshly, making me shout in surprise before I felt a twinge of pleasure at the sensation. His left hand joined his right one on my backside and pulled me impossibly closer to him. I heard myself panting quickly. My hands slid up and buried themselves in his long silky dark hair. I tightened my grip reflexively in his hair when I felt him suck hard on my neck and dig his hands in the flesh of my butt...

.

I imagine that the slight pain caused by my hands distracted him from his task long enough to realise what he was doing. He pulled back sharply, looking at me, his eyes sweeping over my dishevelled appearance and parted, swollen lips.

I was catching my breath while I waited for a look of disgust to overtake his features. I drew myself up, not wanting to look weak while I was waiting for his judgment. I imagined it all in my head, Him, withdrawing quickly, announcing me that the past few days were just a set up to make me vulnerable and that we were to duel to death right at that moment, Him, laughing at me, mocking my pathetic display of inexperience.

I still expected the worse when I saw him smirk at me smugly. He squeezed my ass one last time and slowly withdrew his hands from my backside, but he stayed in place, so closed to me, looking me in the eyes. His left hand slid back up the side of my face and brushed against my forehead about where my scar was. His eyes flickered to it before it came back to me.

He brought his face closer to mine, and I felt his slightly stubbled cheek rub against mine as he drew nearer to my ear to murmur:

"There, that was better than duelling, don't you think?"

I felt my magic purr against his and something relax inside of me. I exhaled slowly and let myself fall back on the door behind me. I closed my eyes and answered:

"Much better."

.

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...

Thank you in advance for reviewing and telling me what you thought of it! ^^


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yay! I'm so happy you all liked the slash scene! It was the first time I ever wrote anything like that, so it's a relief to see I'm doing it right!

Thank you so much to my reviewers, favouriters (?) and followers for giving such great support! :D

To the guests:

Alia: Thank you! I'm glad you liked the chapter :)

Ghost77401: Thank you for writing such an enthusiastic review! I particularly liked you "shut the front door" comment :P

autumngold: Ouf! I'll try to live up to that scene in the future, I wouldn't want you to skip it ;) And...what makes you think that Voldemort is the one who will change? Perhaps it is Harry who will...you'll see! ;)

FanFictionLover: I'm glad you liked the banana peel! I was laughing myself silly when I wrote it. And I knew you'd like the slash and ask for more. All in due time, don't worry. This is supposed to be a Romance, after all. There should be some of it at some point in the story :P

boblove321: Haha! I tried the imagine the scene when you spat your orange juice in response to Voldemort's comment about his harem. It would be hot, right? ;)

Enjoy!

Warning: A bit of crude language at the end.

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Chapter 22: 12th of August 1997: Potions and Reflections

I felt a bit conflicted about the kiss I had shared with the Dark Lord. That night, I had left the study floating on cloud nine, dismissing the small worry that was nagging at the back of my mind.

Progressively, as time passed and I only saw glimpses of the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor, I had begun to question whether he and I had the same idea of what had happened. For instance, when he said it was my birthday gift, did that mean that he was only granting me a favour that I obviously wanted when he kissed me? And that, in normal circumstances, he wouldn't have bothered to do it? He did make a few allusions to me joining up his hypothetical harem...so, maybe...it meant that he desired me. Or at least, that he found me attractive enough to be potentially interesting. Which wasn't a small thing. This was the Dark Lord, by the gods, not just anybody! He's got to have the highest standards in the country, at least!

So, despite that our kiss could mean nothing more than the Dark Lord being vaguely interested (or at least not repulsed) in me, it wasn't an insignificant discovery.

Now, on the question of whether I was interested in him, or how that affected my mission to kill him, well, let's just say that it wasn't as easily settled in my mind. I was undoubtedly attracted to the man; I had always been. I also desired him, yearned for his magic...and his body. And well...I had interacted a bit with him, and had discussed a lot more with the Malfoys, and the impression I now had of the Dark Lord was... positive. I got the feeling that he was a very powerful man who had always lived in relative isolation from the rest of his kind because he had always been more intelligent, more mature or jaded than them. Of course, I didn't forget that he also had the biggest ego in the country, was self-centered, short-tempered and controlling, cruel and manipulative. He wasn't big on individual rights and liberties, on conciliating different opinions and points of views; he just imposed his as rules.

So...where did that leave me? I supposed...exactly where I was before. I didn't want to be the jury, judge and executioner in this story, just barging in and justifying my actions by some vague prophecy that might or might not designate me as his future killer.

But I didn't want to surrender the Duel either. The Dark Lord would crush me to the ground; he would make me pay for that challenge. The minute I was out of the Non-Aggression clause after my forfeit, I'd probably be dead. One kiss didn't make me change my opinion about that, despite what he tried to say about me being 'entertaining enough to keep alive' or 'making him laugh', those sort of things were directly aimed at making me trust him. Yeah, maybe he was lonely at the top of the world; I could believe that. But dammit, since when did you need a seventeen years old kid to distract you? I mean, if he were just aiming for me to be in his bed, as sad and desperate as it makes me sound, by this time, I'd probably already be in it! It's the Dark Lord, come on, who wouldn't? Especially when he temporarily couldn't hurt you and when you knew you were probably going to die soon... No time to regret bad decisions, right?

Anyway. The next time I saw him was about a week later when I passed him in a corridor while heading for an evening training. He was walking with Lucius to the study, absorbed in his conversation with his Minister. From what I heard of it, it sounded about a new policy for wand-quality control. When I talked about it with Lucius afterwards, he explained to me that they wanted to quash the black market for low quality wands because they had a tendency to blow up at the face of their users. Their plan sounded reasonable, but that wasn't the point. I was standing there, pausing slightly to look at Voldemort passing by, and he just shot me a glance and quirked one side of his mouth slightly and then he returned to his conversation. That's it. No earth-shattering reunion where he shoved me against the wall in the corridor and kissed me passionately again. Not that I expected that in front of Lucius, but this easy dismissal seemed quite cold to me. Hadn't we shared something important? Probably not. After all, this was the Dark Lord we were talking about. The man probably had tons of lovers. I had to be realistic. What was a little kiss compared to that? Nothing, really...

Therefore, I had concluded that it had been nothing more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. I wanted him, he wanted me (perhaps less than me, but still), and we kissed. We could probably do more if I let him, or if he decided that he wanted more...I wasn't against that, as long as he gave me some time to adjust to the situation. Which I supposed was what he was doing at the moment.

It had taken me quite a while to reach that conclusion. In the meantime, Remus had come for few session of tutoring. It had been good to see him again and to ask him what he had been doing for the past seven or so years. It turned out that he was living with Tonks. And not just living with her...Apparently, they had recently gotten together, at Tonks' insistence (or persistence?). Well...to say that I was surprised was to put it mildly, but who was I to judge when I 'got the hots' for someone who was old enough to be my grandfather?

So, according to Remus, they had settled well in their new life as upstanding citizens of the Dark Lord's regime. Sometimes, they didn't agree with some policies, but well...wasn't that always the case? It seemed like he had adopted the same attitude as I currently had on the topic: the _'But which regime is perfect?_' rhetorical question.

He didn't ask me what I was doing in Malfoy Manor and in direct contact with the Dark Lord. He didn't ask if I had given up my 'Task' or was still in the process of fulfilling it. I was grateful for his silence on the subject. I wouldn't know how to answer it at the moment. We talked about Sirius. Remus had heard of his death, but didn't know much about how it had happened. I told him the little I knew of it. I still didn't understand what had happened with the cursed magical artefact. Neville hadn't been very clear on the subject. I could probably ask the Dark Lord for more details, but, judging by the fact that he reacted so furiously to the Rebels' attempt to steal the object, I didn't think he'd be open to discuss it openly with me.

Anyway, Remus tested me on my subjects, and only briefly checked my theoretical knowledge in Defense and Charms before he pronounced me ready for my NEWTs in these two subjects. He passed more time on testing my Transfiguration and Astrology, but really, Sirius had always been quite good at them, so I had plenty of experience with them as well, I just needed more theory. My exotic plants required a bit of work, since we didn't have any at the village, but I had learnt how to take care of the rest well enough from when I had hung out with Neville. My Potions were horrendous, as expected. It was a difficult discipline to learn, very precise and detailed, and nobody at the Rebel camp had been good enough to teach it well to me. We had always bought or traded the potions we needed there.

Remus had nearly pronounced me a lost cause in Potions. Well, he hadn't, but judging from his desperate sighing, I knew that it wasn't going as swiftly as he wished. _'When the foundations aren't solid, you can't build anything good on it,_' he said. I was a bit (a lot) mortified when he said he had to talk about it with the Dark Lord because there was not much he could do at this point.

One morning, when I had steeled myself for another horrendous session with Remus in the Potions lab of Malfoy Manor, I found somebody else waiting for me. The man was tall, had dark, greasy hair and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. When he turned his eyes on me, I nearly froze on the spot. He was intimidating in a whole different sense than the Dark Lord. I didn't feel welcomed by his magic; I didn't see a spark of humour or challenge in his eyes. There was only contempt and disgust in there. I had never been confronted to such animosity. Even the looks Moody had thrown me sometimes weren't as hate-filled as this.

He sneered slightly at me and said:

"I always thought that James Potter was the worst Potions student ever to sully the ground of a Potions lab. It seems like I was wrong, and that his son has surpassed him in yet another field of incompetence. That they chose this pitiful wolf that barely managed to pass his Potions NEWTs by the skin of his very sharp teeth is a disgrace, but I can understand why no one wanted to take on such an impossible task. The burden, sadly, has fallen upon my shoulders today and I was instructed by the Dark Lord to try to penetrate this thick fog that you call your mind and teach you the basics of my precise and delicate art. You shall attempt to not make me loose too much of my precious time, but I do not have high hopes for you, Potter."

My eyes had widened in disbelief when I listened to the man. Just who was this man and how dare he just stroll in my life with his preconceived notions of me? I had never even met him! Or, at least, I thought not, even if his face seemed vaguely familiar. If this was to be my Potions tutor, however, I didn't want to start on an even worst standing than the low point where I apparently was at the moment. I resolved to be unfailingly polite, like with the Goblins. To appease him like an unknown, dangerous creature. There's got to be a reason why this insulting man was chosen for this task, after all. I cleared my throat.

"I am sorry to hear that you have such a negative view of me. You seem to have known my father better than me. May I ask your name, sir?

-You say that you do not recognise me? You are an ignorant child."

Okay, politeness was difficult to maintain in the face of such a hostile behaviour.

"I apologise for my lack of culture, sir, I grew up in a very isolated place. Perhaps if you told me your name, I would recognise it?" There, that was polite. Try to find something to reproach to that.

He snorted, but answered:

"Severus Snape is my name, boy. No doubt you will have heard of me from your idiotic mutt of a godfather."

I had to strengthen my Occlumency shields to keep myself from shouting at this horrible man. A stab of pain shot through me at the allusion to Sirius. I couldn't let his memory be tainted by this greasy git. I clung to what I still had of calm to answer.

"Sir, kindly refrain from insulting my godfather in front of me, please. He was very dear to me and he passed away recently. I do recognise your name and can understand a part of your worries. I am quite surprised that the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts would spare some of his precious time to tutor me and I thank you in advance for your help. I admit that I am in dire need of it.

-How dare you presume knowing what I think? You are presumptuous and arrogant like your father!"

I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. Really, what was Voldemort thinking when he sent me this man as a tutor? He might be a brilliant Potion Master but, from what I had heard of it, everybody had been quite relieved when he stopped teaching, including the man himself. I tried to think of a way to make him instruct me.

This was the type of man who could and would make you beg for help and then laugh in your face when you kneeled on the ground to plead for it. I had my pride; I wasn't going to beg to the Headmaster of Hogwarts when I was only here on the Dark Lord's whim. I wouldn't need Potions where I was going. In a few months, I would most likely be dead anyway. I was just humouring Voldemort and getting my NEWTs. I liked to learn and it wasn't such a hassle for me. It did also give me more time to live. But I wasn't about to suffer through this any longer.

.

In the background, Headmaster Snape had continued to hurl abuse at everybody I ever cared for in my life. He slandered their names, burnt them at the stake and figuratively spit on their graves. I had enough. My control burst. My magic broke out of my body like a dam and it smashed the man into the wall, holding him there and silencing him. I swiftly went up to his face, looked him in the eye and said:

"That's enough. I didn't ask for any of this. If you won't tutor me, then don't. I certainly don't understand why the Headmaster of Hogwarts would teach me, but I don't care. I don't need a Potions NEWTs when I'm going to be dead in a few months at most. And whatever my family ever did to you in the past, I don't care either. They could have tied you to a tree, stripped you naked and urinated on you one after the other and I still wouldn't care. That's them. I'm me: A separate, distinct person who doesn't want to know your opinion about anything else than Potions at the moment. If you don't think you can teach me Potions in an efficient, respectful way, then get out. Or better yet, I'll just leave. I don't have any reason to bear with this. You will respect me; I will respect you; that's how it will work in this lab. Understood?" I said to him, categorically, my magic snapping and swirling around me, giving weight to my words. I wasn't about to let myself be crushed by this man. Enough was enough. Politeness didn't work,so I was trying a display of force.

Snape's beady black eyes were narrowed on my face, considering. After a while, he gave a sharp nod, and I released him from my magic's hold.

"Good. Let's start again. My name is Harry Potter, and it's an honour to have such a prestigious Potions Master as my tutor. I will do my best to learn as much as I can from your teaching."

He examined me again and then replied in a low voice:

"You better not make me regret this, Potter."

And such was the beginning of a weird and delicate balance between hate and grudging respect.

.

o0o0o

The Dark Lord was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. Beside him was a man. The latter had passed out in exhaustion after Voldemort's...merciless attentions. Normally, he did try not to damage his lovers that much, but he couldn't muster the interest to care for such trivial things at the moment. The man wasn't even worth the title of 'lover'. The only thing he was good for was to get on his knees, perk up his ass and take everything the Dark Lord deigned to give him at that moment. It wasn't his first time with the other, but it would certainly be the last.

The Dark Lord's lips curled in a sneer when he dispassionately glanced at the straw-coloured hair of the exhausted man. He wished the other had black hair, at least... Maybe it would have made him keep him longer.

He couldn't even remember the man's name. He had never cared to learn it. In the past month, ever since he had met Harry, he silently admitted to himself, he had discarded his lovers one after the other. All he sought for was a certain satisfaction of his sexual appetite, but those meek and obedient little servants were not enough anymore. He found himself inexplicably looking for a spark of defiance in their eyes if he hurt or degraded them, but all he saw was adoration or fear. He had stopped looking at them altogether. This had to stop. These weak creatures disgusted him; they gave him the impression that he was a medieval King fucking his chambermaids.

He turned to the slumbering man lying next to him and pushed him out of the bed with a small disdainful wave of his hand. The other fell on the ground with a muted thud and sprung back to life, looking around frantically before he saw the Dark Lord on the bed and the sneer he still had on his lips. The blond man climbed up to his knees immediately.

"I'm sorry, my Lord! Whatever I did to displease you, it was not intended! Please, my Lord, give me another chance!" he cried out.

It was a disgusting display. His muddy brown eyes were glassy with tears, his hands were joined in a prayer and his back was slouched by despair. Why the Dark Lord had even granted him a second time, let alone a third, was a mystery.

"Get out," ordered Voldemort, turning his eyes away from the pathetic sight.

"B-but..." tried to articulate the other before stopping himself, spotting his clothes on the floor next to him and putting them on as fast as he could.

The Dark Lord took his wand from the bedside table and aimed it at him.

"Don't expect me to ever call you again. Remember that if you ever intend to talk about what happened here, you will find yourself in a world of pain and will die before you even uttered the first syllable. Consider yourself lucky I kept you for that long. Now, leave." he ordered again, shooting a Stinging hex at the other who wasn't moving fast enough for his taste.

He had wanted it to be a Cruciatus, but the younger soul part in him had stirred in protest. Perhaps such a response was indeed a bit exaggerated in this situation, but the other's presence in his bedchambers was irritating him. He nearly sighed in relief when the idiot left. He returned to his contemplation of the plain ceiling. With the amount of time he dedicated to it those days, he really ought to make it more interesting to look at.

He thought of how eager Harry had looked when he saw him again and of how disappointed he had seemed when the Dark Lord had barely acknowledged him in the corridor. His interest was obvious, really. Voldemort wondered why he hadn't called Harry to him in the past month instead of these fools. The answer came to him easily; Harry was his Horcrux. He had to thread carefully with him because he couldn't just discard him like he had just done with the other. He'd be stuck with the result for years afterwards. Not to mention that Harry probably wouldn't have let himself be treated like that.

_But I want him, Salazar! _He thought, his fists clenching in frustration. Harry had felt good pressed against that door. Pliant and yet with a touch of defiance and strength of character through it all. It had been delicious. Tauntingly enticing and not enough. Not nearly enough. He had forced himself to stop before he went further. As eager as the other had looked, he also was clearly not ready to deal with the consequences of such things. Harry had looked horribly conflicted when he saw him days later. And that was after just a kiss.

The young man was still under the impression that the Dark Lord was his enemy. This had to change. He needed a plan to make Harry accept that they wouldn't be fighting and to make him forfeit the annoying Duel.

_What I want, I get._ He resolved in a familiar mantra.

He would need a plan and put it to execution soon. He couldn't wait to have the younger man pinned under him again...

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...

Hmmm, so Voldemort is scheming. Keep that in mind for the next couple of chapters. I will be important to understand his OCC moments. ;)

Next Chapter: a time skip and a...sticky situation :P

Thank you in advance to everybody who will review. I really liked the comments I got for the last chapter. Keep it up, people! :)


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yayy! People like my story! :D Thank you to everybody who reviewed and shared their opinions with me! I really love to see what you think of what is happening! Keep it up! :D

To my guests:

Boblove321: I'm glad you liked that sentence, I was sniggering to myself when I wrote it. Very few people remarked on it though, strangely. Maybe it was too scandalous for them, hehe. Always a pleasure to make you splutter ;)

FanFictionLover: It's funny, but you're the second reviewer to talk to me about colour-changing cubs for Tonks and Remus. I find the imagery very sweet and cute, but I'm afraid that my story won't last long enough in time to cover the birth of "the cub". Feel free to dream it up though, it doesn't go against anything in the timeline I've planned :P As for the Dark Lord having sex with other people...well, come on. He's practically godly. He can have anybody he wants. He's just realising that the one he wants now is Harry and that all the rest of them are boring.

Warnings: slash...in my opinion, not very graphic...but well. Loosely contained between chapter breaks: o0o0o

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Chapter 23: September 1st 1997, Part One: Soul-to-soul

Today, Draco would leave to go to Hogwarts and I would move to the Dark Lord's Fortress. I was nervous for both occasions.

I had become used to my routine at Malfoy Manor and I had begun to rely on the blond brat (as I called him even if he was older than me)'s company perhaps a bit too much. Even if I had come to value his friendship, Draco wasn't someone with whom you could get along easily. He was spoilt rotten, whiny when he felt comfortable enough with you and permanently demanding, whoever you were. He was even terrifying to the House-Elves.

Normally, from what I had understood of those strange little creatures, House-Elves loved to work and were very dedicated to making you satisfied. But Draco had such precise tastes, and his demands were so whimsical that they could never really anticipate what he wanted. It more often than not resulted in sessions of self-inflicted torture that Draco found disturbingly amusing. I did not, but I kept my mouth shut because I was only a guest here. However, I did ask Draco not to make them punish themselves in front of me, or because of me, citing for a justification my unrefined upbringing that didn't prepare me adequately for the customs of Pureblood society. He had compassionately agreed. Thank Merlin for small mercies.

It goes without saying that I had become the favourite among the House-Elves because I was easy to please and always polite with them. You never knew whose help you would need at some point, after all. Better to not alienate yourself to anybody. And, well, I just couldn't watch them hurt themselves without intervening.

It would all be for nothing after today, however, since I was leaving for the Dark Lord's Fortress, where he had supposedly cursed his House-Elves with some sort of binding contract that prevented them of having any original thought or personality. I imagined that they would be like those science-fiction robots without emotions that you read about in Muggle books. It wasn't sure what to make of this. It went with my theory that the Dark Lord was scared of being betrayed or killed in his sleep. It was also an abject decision and, in my view, a grave insult to the creatures' rights he was trying to promote in his regime in general. When I commented on this to Remus, he said that House-Elves were not perceived as 'humanoid enough' to be granted the same rights as werewolves, vampires, veelas or merepeople, for instance. At least, the distinction had been made by their level of consciousness, and not by their physical aspect, as I had first thought. House-Elves were too servile and simple-minded to be recognised as creatures worthy of rights, according to this regime. I put it on my mental list of things I didn't like about this government.

Currently, I was standing in the entrance parlour of Malfoy Manor. Draco, who had decided to work on his composure a bit before going back into 'the real world', was behaving with the dignity and maturity befitting a Malfoy heir. So, no, he wasn't begging or whining, he was demanding and compromising with his parents because he wanted me to accompany them at the Platform.

I was a bit torn on this issue, so I let them decide for me. On one hand, it would probably be my last occasion to see the Hogwarts Express where my father and his friends had met. It was also, perhaps, the last I'd see of Draco, depending on if I survived until the Yule holidays. One never knew. On the other hand, it was a bit risky and I didn't know if I really wanted to be seen. I was supposed to look a lot like my father, what if someone recognised me?

In the end, Lucius decided that I wouldn't go because the Dark Lord had plans for my first public appearance. He said that I could probably go there to welcome him home for Yule, however, if circumstances allowed it (_meaning, if I didn't die beforehand_, I completed in my head).

Draco looked at me, hesitating a bit on how he should bid me farewell. I smiled a bit at him and hugged him tightly for a brief moment, before letting him go. He shot an embarrassed look at his parents before sending me a small half-smile. For all his slightly annoying and demanding personality, I had become fond of him in the past month. I'd miss his biting humour and our impromptu Quidditch matches.

I bid farewell to Lucius and Narcissa as well, since I would probably be gone for the Dark Lord's Fortress by the time they came back from the Platform. I would see them again soon, however, or so Narcissa promised me. They left by the Floo and I headed to my rooms to finish my packing process.

I wondered briefly what I would do of my suddenly freed schedule without the Malfoys' company before a flash of the Dark Lord and a bed came to my mind. I flushed a bit. I wouldn't be against the idea of spending more...active evenings with him.

My mind drifted on the subject while I packed all of my new clothes in an equally new suitcase courtesy of the 'Thank you for saving Draco' foundation they had set up in my name. I exaggerated a bit, but they just kept on spending for me, even when I told them repeatedly that they shouldn't waste their money on someone who would be dead soon. Narcissa would then invariably reprimand me for saying such crude things.

I sighed and sat on my bed, looking around at the rooms. I wondered for the hundredth time this month how it would be at the Dark Lord's Fortress. Would I see him more often than now? Lucius had told me that he had been busier than usual this month because of an ICW meeting that was coming up.

I let myself drop back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The Dark Lord was supposed to send someone to pick me up in my room around this time. I relaxed a bit on the comfortable bed to wait and closed my eyes for few minutes. I began to drift off.

o0o0o

Then I felt it: His magical aura, seeping through every pore of my body. In my semi-conscious state, I sighed and arched up a bit at the feeling. The warmth, the power of it was delicious. I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from making embarrassing sounds. I felt his body hover above mine and the mattress dip on each side of my head where he placed his hands. I jolted a bit when I felt his nose tracing my collarbone and my neck up to my ear. He murmured in it:

"So beautiful, lying in the bed waiting for me and responding so eagerly. So very docile..."

My eyes snapped open, glaring at him. The Dark Lord was there in all his red-eyed glory, smirking knowingly at me. He was still so close above me that if I lifted my head slightly, it would collide with his. I wasn't about to let the insult slide. I wasn't docile and I was about to prove it to him.

I quickly wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled on him. He fell on me and I twisted rapidly to the side, mounting on his stomach and pining him to the mattress by the shoulders. I smiled at him smugly and he just lifted an eyebrow, still smirking superiorly. I was beginning to question his perception of reality when he suddenly grabbed my hips and pulled them down on his lap. My eyes widened and I looked at his knowing smirk. Damn. Bloody smug bastard.

I began to shift on the side to get away from him when he grabbed me again and twisted until I was lying on my back and him above me, reverting our position, except that he was now between my legs, of course. He gripped my hands and pinned them above my head on the mattress. I felt horribly exposed even if I still had all my clothes on.

I hesitated on what to do. On one hand, I did have enough of technique to throw him off me, but it would be quite the struggle and I wasn't sure of how the clause of Non-Aggression of the Honour Duel would react to that. On the other hand, it wasn't that I disliked that position per se. It could lead to interesting things, after all, but he had just teased me by saying I was submissive so the last thing I wanted to do at this point was submit. It would only prove the smug bastard right. I was at an impasse and the jerk was watching my face closely, probably reading on it every step of my deliberation while I pondered my dilemma.

I blanked my face before meeting his eyes. He narrowed them, trying to determine what I had decided but I didn't give him the time to discover it before I made my move. A stupid move, really, and halfway between both options.

I lifted my legs up and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him closer to me. He fell on me with a reflexive gasp and I took advantage of his surprise to free my hands from his grasp and slide them through his hair, angling his face towards me and kissing him suddenly.

At first, he just stayed there, shock still. Well, I thought he was in shock, but then, when he didn't react after a while and I felt my scar burning warningly, I knew that I had overstepped my boundaries and I began to feel quite self-conscious. After all, he had never said that he wanted to do some more stuff like that with me...

I began to withdraw my lips from his in dejection when he suddenly crashed his lips back on mine and kissed me forcefully. I understood the message: yes, I shouldn't have kissed him without his permission, but no, he wasn't against doing stuff with me. I sighed internally in relief. That could have ended badly.

I was distracted from my thoughts when I felt the Dark Lord's hand pulling my shirt out of my dress pants. I jolted when his warm hand touched the sensitive skin of my side and I hummed in his mouth when it roamed higher to skim my waist and my rib cage. His teeth bit my lower lip slightly before nibbling at the skin of my jaw and at my ear. His warm breath on my neck made me shiver and I roamed my hands on his chest before reaching down to pull his shirt out as well. I suddenly desperately wanted to touch his skin, to explore the vast expanses with the tip of my fingers and the flat of my palms. I had finally managed to pull out the shirt just enough to start unbuttoning it when I felt the Dark Lord bite my neck sharply like last time. I cried out and hissed in pain as he sucked on the sensitive skin.

"What...what is it with you and...biting my neck?" I said through my clenched teeth.

He hummed in answer, and I could feel the vibrations of his vocal cords resonate in my throat. It was a weird sensation. He pulled back, looking me over like last time before he smirked.

"I'm marking you."

I looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"Why? It's not like anybody could see it beneath my collar.

-No, but every time you will look at yourself in a mirror in the next..." He looked at the bruise he created, evaluating. "Three days, you'll see it and you will know that you are mine."

He punctuated his declaration with a deep roll of his hips that made me arch into him, gasping. _What? I'm his? What does he mean?_

"But..." I tried to articulate a protest.

"No buts, until the day you die, you are mine, Harry Potter." I felt like my brain had stopped working and his movements against my body didn't make it easier for me to concentrate.

"What?! Why would I...let myself...let you...why...say things...like that?" There, that was vaguely coherent.

I gasped out loud when I felt his hand knead my butt.

"What if..." I started again, still panting. "I wanted...to do...stuff...with other people too?"

The Dark Lord barked out a dark laugh as he pinned my arms back above my head and looked me directly in the eye.

"I'm afraid I will ruin sex for you. It will never be enough with anybody else than me, not after living something like this..." he said confidently while his magic wrapped more tightly around me and battled with mine with a renewed intensity.

It felt like an electric current pulsing through my body and making it hum with power. I felt my chest rise off the mattress and my eyes roll towards the back of my head. I involuntarily let out a throaty groan and clenched the muscles of my arms and legs.

The magic...it was...intoxicating. It reverberated through every fibre of my body, inflaming them, stimulating them. I nearly blacked out as I climaxed. I couldn't have stopped myself. He didn't even touch me and it was too much.

I came down from my high, panting harshly, my eyes still closed. I felt humiliated. It wasn't supposed to happen this quickly. I gathered my courage and peeked my eyes open. The Dark Lord was looking at me, sitting back on his heels, a smug smile on his lips and a mocking eyebrow lifted. He hadn't even touched me, for Merlin's sake! I felt my face burn up in shame.

His smug expression dimmed down a bit and he frowned his brow. He lifted his right hand and brought it up to the side of my face near the scar, caressing it lightly. I could still feel his magic humming beneath his skin, teasing, reminding me of what I had just lived.

"Harry" called the Dark Lord. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You react exceptionally well to my magic and I sent so much of it toward you for that direct purpose. Anyway, you shouldn't worry too much about it. Most people can't really control themselves around me. It's a flattering fact of life. I am overwhelming, I can't help it." He let out a small chuckle. "It's good news, really! It means that I can always make you satisfied without having to invest too much effort on you. Then you wouldn't complain if we focus our energies on satisfying me, would you?" He said, teasingly.

Strangely, his words did reassure me enough to go back to a vaguely normal behaviour so I glared up at him again.

"Ahh, there he is again, back to normal. You do know you look like a little frustrated kitten when you glare at me like that, right? I'm not intimidated in the slightest." I felt myself burn up.

"Stop talking to me as if I was a child! And I don't look like a kitten either! I'm a man!"

I pushed him off me and hurriedly climbed out of the bed. I darted to the bathroom, grabbing a new pair of underwear and pants before heading in. I turned back right before I entered to glance at the Dark Lord. He was still smirking at me from the bed. I huffed under my breath and closed the bathroom door loudly.

_I'll never live it down._

o0o0o

When I was done washing myself quickly and changing into new clothes, I went back to the room resolutely. If the Dark Lord felt generous enough to try to reassure me after my humiliation, I wasn't going to worry about it anymore. Well, I'd try to not wallow on it too much.

When I entered the room again, I saw Voldemort sitting at my desk, reading through some of the notes I had taken about the Rebels.

"Hey!" I shouted a bit angrily. "You can't look at that!" I hurried next to him and tried to claw the documents off his hands, but he swiped them away quickly.

-Ah? Wasn't it intended for Lucius and me?" He asked, one eyebrow lifted at me and still holding the papers out of my reach.

"Yeah, but I kept it for negotiation purposes!" He paused at that.

"What do you want for them?" His words reminded me a bit of what he had asked me at my birthday. I blushed slightly at the thought, and definitely reddened when I saw the enormous bed standing in the corner of the room not too far away and thought of our earlier activities. I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts. _No, this is more important than some silly crush on the Dark Lord._

" I'm not sure of everything yet. I know I want full access to my vault, no more probation time. I also want some sort of diplomatic immunity in case you die in our Duel...

-You should get that notion out of your head. If we duelled to death, I would win. You could be training for twenty more years and I'd still win."

I frowned at him. It's not as if I didn't know that there was quite the gap between our age and abilities, but I thought that he was too categorical in his judgement.

"Do you know why?" He asked, sure of himself as always.

"No, why?" I bit out, annoyed at the man.

-Because you have never killed anyone before and because you don't hate me enough to finish me off when I'm at your mercy. Not that it will happen, but still. You don't have the ruthlessness needed to kill me in cold-blood. I think that's part of why you challenged me to this Duel, as well. In your head, it would be a more honourable way to commit the deed. But well, let's face it, it would still be a murder, you would still be killing someone, shattering your soul, tainting your magical aura. You would have to look me in the eye, slash my throat open and watch stoically by as the blood would pour out of my body and my life would start fading away...Do you like to picture it, Harry? Do you think you would feel pleasure at killing me? Earlier, were you thinking about how you would like to stick a blade through my heart and watch my life wither away when I was pinning you to the bed and you were moaning my name in desire?"

I was shaking my head rapidly in denial throughout his entire speech. I wanted to throw up at what he was describing. How could I do that? I never thought of what killing him would be like. I had always evaded thinking about the subject. 'Kill' was just a word I had heard often enough to feel comfortable using, but, if I thought about it more attentively, I knew that I didn't want to do it to anyone. I just wanted to be free of my 'Destiny', but Voldemort didn't even believe that I had a 'Task' anyway, so I was even more uncertain of what I was doing here anymore. Why a Duel at all? Was it really necessary, or was I the one who caused this whole situation by challenging him?

"Of course I wasn't thinking about that when we were..." I interrupted him, frustrated, before stopping myself again. "I never wanted to kill you in the first place. Not even before I started to have my doubts about the Rebels."

"And that's precisely why I would win if we duelled...Now, how about forfeiting? The problem would be settled. That way, none of us would have to die." He said that as naturally as if he had just informed me that there would be rain tomorrow.

"That's a lie and you know it. What would prevent you from killing me the second I forfeit?

-Well, apart from the fact that I don't have any reasons to want you dead, which I thought by now was fairly established, if you had done your research on Honour Duels as well as I did mine, you would know that there is a clause in them that prevents either parties from taking revenge on the other after the conclusion of the Duel.

-Oh...I didn't know that...but I'm sure there are ways to go around this clause. I'm not sure I believe you when you say you don't want me dead either.

-Because you think I am of habit to kiss and bring to completion people I want dead? I assure you, you would probably be stalling in a dungeon right now, preparing anxiously for our upcoming Duel and your fatal humiliation if I wanted to kill you. Not living under my Minister's roof in one of the most luxurious room he owns in his Manor."

By now, I was not only confused, but also probably blushing at his question. I calmed down and sighed, turning my head to face him.

"What do you want from me then? Why did you say..." _Mine!_ "that I belonged with you until my Death if you weren't planning on me dying soon?"

He sighed, turning his eyes away from me. I got the distinct impression that he regretted saying that. I felt a pang of disappointment thud in my chest.

"I am a very possessive man, Harry. It's in my nature. And I don't take well to sharing what is mine with other people."

I watched him and frowned. That wasn't all. He was hiding something.

"That still doesn't explain the 'until my Death' part. Do you kill your lovers when you are done with them?" I asked, struggling to keep an aloof and detached voice. Maybe nobody knew any of his lovers because they all died before they could speak of their trysts?

He huffed out a dark laugh, of course. I didn't see anything funny about it and I crossed my arms on my chest, waiting expectantly.

"Was that another of the rebels' theories? I want to repopulate the Wizarding population, not divest it of some its better elements." He shot me a sharp grin.

"Why, are you worried you are going to stumble on a room full of their cadavers in my home? Maybe I should give you the keys of my Fortress and tell you not to open a certain door, like Bluebeard did in the tale. We would see how much time it would take before your curiosity got the better of you and would convince you to open it..."

Ok, that sounded ridiculous. One, he wouldn't have kept the bodies in his fortress. Two, it was probably unrealistic to think that he killed his lovers after he was bored with them. Three...did he really have that many lovers that it would do a sizeable hole in the Wizarding population of Britain if he killed them all? That didn't make me feel good about it at all. I knew that a powerful and handsome man like him could probably have whomever he wanted, but still...No, I didn't want to think about that.

He laughed again at my frustrated expression.

"Harry, Harry. Don't worry about it too much...Unless you want to add this to your lists of trade? 'Thou shalt not kill thy lovers?' I can accept that, as long as there is an expiration date to the rule. A year, perhaps? I don't want it to limit me too much in who I can kill, after all."

I interrupted him.

"Listen to yourself! All you do is tease me and laugh at my expense, how should I know when you tell the truth or not? That's what I was trying to say! I can't trust you to tell me the truth; you're the Dark Lord, for Magic's sake! Of course you lie, of course you cheat, of course you kill everyone that annoys or bores you! It's in your job description! Why should you be any different with me? You can try to convince me as much as you want that you won't take advantage of my forfeit to ask impossible or horrible things of me, but I'll never believe you. I'll never trust you enough to believe that you would go along with a pre-negotiated deal when you could ask for anything and everything I am or have. There. That's my problem. That's why I won't forfeit. And that's why the information in your hand is the only negotiation platform I have at the moment. Please, give it back."

I felt weary and tired, but I looked at him attentively, trying to gage his reactions to what I have said. He wasn't looking at me. He was turned, facing the front of the desk, his features impassable. He was looking out of the window, at the wind swaying the trees gently, at the bright flowers colouring the garden, or maybe he didn't see anything at all. Lucius had talked to me about this type of occurrences. According to him, when the Dark Lord was like that, it was better to not interrupt him because that was when he conjured up the better plans, when he had his most original ideas. I wondered if he was thinking of something related to me. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to let him scheme if that was the case. Something told me that I wouldn't like the result.

I went closer to him, slowly approaching, as if he was a dangerous beast that could attack me anytime. It wasn't so far from reality. I reached forward with my hands, to both give him a warning that I was approaching and to show him that I was unarmed. I wasn't sure if I was doing too much, but, in this case, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

He was watching me from the corner of his eyes, but he still didn't say anything. I reached for his shoulder, grasping it lightly. It was strong and warm under my skin. The tingles I suddenly felt reassured me. I looked back at his face. It was turned toward me and one of his eyebrows lifted elegantly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice thankfully not angry.

"You aren't mad at me?

-Why would I be? You only told me what you thought of me. I never expected it to be positive. I expect it to be worse than what you said, in fact. But why should it matter, what you think of me?" His eyes were scrutinising me, observing my reaction to his words. They stung a bit, but I never expected him to really care about my opinion anyway, so I felt reinforced in my judgment. He stayed quiet for a moment and then inhaled deeply, as if he was bracing himself for something unpleasant.

.

"Tell me, Harry, have you ever heard of soul mates?" he asked in a measured voice.

I felt my eyes widen and my hand dropped from his shoulder.

"What? Er, yeah, I heard of it before, briefly..." I looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

-Do you think that you have a normal reaction to my magic? To myself?"

I frowned. No, I didn't think I had normal reactions to him. When he was there, it was as if my brain became mush. He abnormally entranced me. I had always been that way with him. But whenever he left the room, or I left his proximity, I always questioned my previous behaviour with him and never understood the reason behind it. Was he trying to tell me that I behaved that way...because I was his soul mate?

I gaped at him. I felt as if all thoughts had suddenly fled away from my head. Flabbergasted. I didn't know much about soul mates. I always thought they were stupid tales for girls who were waiting for 'the One'. I didn't expect the Dark Lord to believe in it either. That certainly gave unexpected credibility to the notion.

_Soul mates?_ I looked at him; he returned the gaze unwaveringly. _No...but then, the Prophecy? It pitched two soul mates one against the other...and...of course! 'Neither can live while the other survives!' I never really understood that line, but soul mates are supposed to die when the other does, right? Is THAT why he didn't want to kill me? But, why wouldn't he just...tell me that before?_

I observed his stoic attitude; the way he looked at me oddly expectant, but maybe a bit...worried of my reaction? He said he expected my opinion of him to be even worse than what I said to him...Was he afraid of rejection? I nearly scoffed in my head.

_It's the Dark Lord, come on! Be realistic! He must be playing with you,_ screamed my conscience.

But, at the same time, my mind was transported to the story I heard, all those nights ago, lying on the grass at the Rebels' camp, the story of a young Half-blood orphan who struggled to find a place in society and decided to carve himself one at the top of everything. And Voldemort nearly plainly said that he was lonely; he tried to deflect it by calling it being bored but...maybe he was in fact worried; maybe he did want my company as his soul mate.

I suddenly realised that I had gaped at him for the last few minutes. I shut my mouth abruptly and swallowed.

_What do you answer to someone who just told you that you were his soulmate?_

I looked around at the room, searching for inspiration.

"Shouldn't we be going at your Fortress?" I blurted out.

The question slipped from my mouth and I berated myself mentally. It nearly sounded like a rejection or a dismissal. I turned to watch his reaction to it. He had sat up and turned his back to me in a short movement. As if he didn't want me to see the expression on his face. It was hard to believe he was that affected by my clumsy reply. I felt a pang of guilt in my stomach. I couldn't leave it like that.

I stepped closer to him and pressed my forehead against his back. I sighed, revelling in the magic pulsing around me and in his nice smell. I didn't know what it was...some sort of spice...musk? It could even be cloves. I had always been bad at identifying odours.

I tried to reassure him, even if the role reversal felt a bit absurd to me.

"I'm not sure of what I feel at the moment. I just need some time to digest it. I didn't think soul mates really existed, but I guess it does explain a lot of things, right? You have always fascinated me, always... I remember the first time I saw you. It was on a Victory Day, when I was, what? Eight, nine years old?" I huffed out a laugh, remembering the scene.

" I thought you looked like a King straight out of a fairy tale up on your carriage. Sirius was there, trying to make me angry at you, at what you had done to my parents, but I just couldn't hate you. I think I still can't. You looked at me and the only thing I could think was that you had beautiful eyes."

I smiled a bit melancholically when I thought of Sirius. He had been a bit extreme that day. I was too young to understand what he told me; he should have realised that, but he never had the best of judgements for that kind of things.

I felt the Dark Lord moved under my head. He turned around and looked at me, his brow creased, but with a small smile at the corner of his lips. He lifted a hand and caressed my cheek softly.

"You are too nice for your own good, you know that? One day someone will take advantage of that and hurt you badly.

-But you'll be there to protect me, right?" I joked with a cheesy cliché. His tenderness made me ill at ease, as if it didn't work with the image I had of him. As if something wasn't quite right in this whole scenario.

He barked a laugh. I relaxed and felt a bit proud to have made him laugh despite his weird mood. I grinned up at him.

"Now, now, come on, I want to see where you live. I've heard tales of your impregnable Fortress all my life. I want to test if the Rebels had something right at least." I bumped his side to make him move on. He snorted another laugh and wrapped an arm around my shoulders before he pulled us in an Apparition.

_Soulmates, hum? That changed a lot of things..._

* * *

Before anybody points it out, I am aware that the end of this chapter is in contradiction to something I've said before (Chapter 8). The contradiction partly explains the Dark Lord's OOCness here.

Anyway, no flaming, please, keep in mind that you see here isn't all there was to it. Clarifications in the next chapters.

Thank you in advance for reviewing!


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yayy! I got a good reception overall for my last chapter! Thank you so much to my reviewers! As usual, I really appreciate the effort you put in writing my reviews! :)

There will again be some OOC in here on both Harry and Voldemort's part as they are struggling with their new status of "soul mates" and everything it implies.

To answer my guests:

Ichigokitty: Here it is! :)

Boblove321: Perceptive, perceptive. It looks like an excuse, but maybe it has some truth in it? Who knows?

autumngold: Thank you for asking about Severus' feeling concerning Harry's decision to leave the Rebels. I hadn't plan to include it in the fic, but I will now. It won't be before a while though, because Severus isn't the type to open up rapidly to anyone. Thanks for the nice comments as well :)

FanFictionLover: Thank you and I completely agree with most of what you say. I don't like effeminate Harrys, though. The kitten thing was a teasing on Voldemort's part because he knew that Harry hated being treated like that, not because he particularly looked like one.

Incidentally, I will say at this point that there won't be a cat!Harry episode in this fic. It's an idea I've seen in "the Black Bunny" and the "Kitty Love" trilogy, and, as much as I quite liked it in there, I don't want to use it in this story. Sorry!

And on with the show!

* * *

Chapter 24: 1st of September 1997: Part Two: The Dark Lord's Fortress

The first thing I noticed of the place was that it was done in a completely different style than Malfoy Manor, but that it wasn't any less imposing. Here, instead of pure lines and shining marble, the interior was made nearly entirely out of wood, thick carpets covered the floors and rich paintings of landscapes (as opposed to the innumerable portraits of Malfoys) adorned the walls.

The Dark Lord slid his hand off my shoulders and stepped toward the door. He turned back to face me and made an all-encompassing gesture with his hands.

"The entrance parlour. Nothing particularly striking here. Come, I'll give you a quick tour."

I followed suit out the room, watching a bit uncertainly the man who may, or may not be my soul mate. It sounded like such a foreign idea.

_How twisted does that make me if the one person who is supposed to fit me perfectly is a megalomaniacal tyrant reigning over Magical Britain?_

Despite my harsh thoughts, I wasn't completely opposed to the concept, although I was a bit wary of the 'preordained' component of it. Hadn't he said before that he didn't believe in anything like that?

_I think that, if I were him, I'd be pretty disappointed that my soul mate is a teenager, even if I'm somewhat mature for my age. The one thing he seems to really enjoy at the moment is his research, and I haven't even passed my OWLs... _

My thoughts were drifting as I was listening with one ear to the explanation the Dark Lord was giving about a particular room, or a particular object. Apparently, this place used to be the illustrious dwelling of Salazar Slytherin himself, and Voldemort looked quite proud of having been able to claim this heritage for himself. Perhaps it was a difficult task to accomplish for a Half-blood. The funny thing was, although I kept that thought to myself, that his guided tour reminded me of the one Cedric had given me at the Magical Library. One only had to replace all the Hufflepuffs for Slytherins and the gist of it was the same. Well, except that the Dark Lord's version was a lot bloodier and darker.

While he was talking animatedly about his ancestors, I observed the man closely.

_I'm quite surprised that he took the whole soul mate thing so well. It doesn't make sense, really. He should be mad, at least, that his choice was robed from him. But instead he nearly looked...vulnerable earlier? Maybe he trusted me and showed me a side of himself he's never shown to anybody else before?_

That sounded incredibly cheesy. It went completely against my idea of him. Even if he'd worn a mask all his life and was just showing me the real softie beneath the hard shell...wasn't his whole...transformation a bit too quick?

"And this corridors leads to the dungeons. Where your rooms are, naturally," said the Dark Lord with such a perfect poker face that I nearly believed him. _He really is a good actor._

I lifted an eyebrow at him. _Let's test him a bit._

"Are you really going to make your soul mate rot all alone in a humid dungeon? Wow, that wasn't on the soul mate prospectus when I read it. I should think I deserved at least a suite... befitting my new status, don't I?" I said in a slightly petulant voice.

I saw him frown at my attitude before he smoothed it away. I was sure he would shut me down directly. I increased the pressure on him as I added in a teasing tone:

"Maybe I should just go and settle myself in your rooms, how would you find that? Then we could share a bed all the time. It will be as if we were married!" I added in a delighted voice. "It's practically already done anyway, what with being soul mates and all...And then we could tell everyone the good news!"

I saw his right eye twitch violently. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but I think he became a slight shade of green as well. Why wasn't he telling me to shut up?

"No. We won't tell anyone else," he said in barely controlled frustration.

"Why not? How else I am suppose to have the wedding of my dreams if we don't?" I tried to ask innocently, grasping his arm. His magic felt hectic and wild under my hand.

"Potter, we won't get married! Get that idea out of your head! It would make us both vulnerable if other people knew of our connection. They could try to kill you to get to me." He was still trying to reason with me. I was impressed by his self-control, but I didn't understand why he would indulge me so much.

"But who would want to kill you? I'm sure everybody will be delighted to see you settle down at last! Everyone are going to be so jealous of me when they hear I'm the lucky guy!"

Voldemort closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. He seemed one second away from tearing my hands off his arm and hexing me to his darkest corner of his dungeon. I couldn't understand why he hadn't. The situation was just too absurd and I snorted at my own behaviour.

He stiffened and looked at me abruptly.

"You were acting." He sounded relieved. I could understand why.

-What gave it away?" I asked, teasingly.

-That type of behaviour, it's not you; it's an old recurring nightmare of mine, ever since I came to power."

I felt my eyes widen in surprise at the confession.

"In the earlier years after the War," he continued, "I thought a few times of settling down and having some heirs, but whenever I wanted to suggest it to one of my lovers, I'd give them a bit more of liberty with me before to try to evaluate if I could at least tolerate them in a long-term basis, and, immediately, they'd start clinging on me like you just did, and bothering me all the time when I was doing my research or wanted to think. And I don't know why, but at some point, they'd start talking to me with those whiny high-pitched voices and making their demands and it just made me want to kill them so badly..."

His hands clenched around thin air for a second before he sighed and dropped them back at his side.

"Needless to say, I dropped quickly this ridiculous notion of weddings, or of heirs, for that matter. If my reaction to whiny adults is so extreme, I don't think I'd fare better with children, heirs or not. Also, children tend to have horrible responses to the Cruciatus, sadly. Where would be the fun of bringing them up if I couldn't even discipline them correctly?" He shot me a smirk, as if daring me to be angry with him for that comment. I was too busy hesitating over been incredulous or scandalised to react properly, unfortunately. When I had gathered my thoughts enough to respond, I found that shouting at him would be counter-productive; he was just trying to provoke me, as always. And even if it was true, at least the man had the sense to not subject kids to his presence more than necessary.

"Is that why you didn't want Draco to come visit me here? Does he remind you of them?" I asked jokingly.

He shrugged slightly and sighed.

"Partly. I've never been fond of spoilt children either." He paused, turning to me. "Would you mind explaining to me what this whole horror show was about, since I can see that you have found your composure again?"

I winced, looking a bit around before answering him. We had come outside at one point or another of the tour and we were currently in the gardens. I spotted a bench and went to sit on it, sighing and putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

I felt him sit at my side and turned my head around to face him.

"I don't really know what to think of this whole soul mate thing. It does explain the strange connection between us, but you creep me out when you start acting all tender around me."

He snorted a laugh.

"Yeah, I know, I know, I'm a bit like you, apparently...I don't even want to imagine how you would sound like with a whiny voice." I saw him open his mouth and said quickly: "Please don't! I think I'll be traumatised for the rest of my life if I ever hear that coming from you."

He glared at me.

"I wasn't about to either. I can guarantee you that."

I frowned, thinking of my previous doubts.

"Why did you act soft and all, then?"

He turned to look straight in front of him. He had a self-deprecating smirk and sighed a bit.

"I suppose I thought it was the appropriate way to behave when you just revealed to someone else that your life depended on them.

-Ah, so, manipulating me out of eventual suicidal thoughts? Or out of betraying you, maybe?" _I could actually believe that better, coming from him._

He turned back to me, lifting an eyebrow at me.

"You are more intelligent than I originally pegged you for."

I snorted.

"High praise indeed.

-Don't get used to it, brat." He pushed me on the shoulder good-naturedly. I found my balance again quickly and retorted:

"Careful there, grandpa, you could hurt yourself. How's retirement treating you by the way? Did you have fun at Gobblestones night yesterday with the other residents?"

He shot me a glare and I grinned at him cheekily. I sobered up quickly.

"Are you disappointed?" I asked.

-In what?

-In being saddled with a teenager for a soul mate? I don't know, I imagined soul mates to be more...alike than we are.

-Do you think I'd go along well with someone who was as ambitious and ruthless as I am? We'd be competing and trying to usurp the other's power all the time. I could never trust someone like that even for the most basics things..."

I thought of his answer for a while, pondering the truth I could feel in it. So, soul mates weren't people with similar personalities, but more like complementary? Well, I had enough insecurity to balance his enormous ego. And I was reckless while he was paranoid. And he was old while I was young. And I was a bit short while he was quite tall. Ok, I'll stop now; it's becoming stupid.

My pointless thoughts were cut short by a low popping sound. A creature was suddenly standing in front of us. It looked all wrinkled and puny. Its head was enormous compared to his body, which was draped with a weird toga with the Slytherin coat of arms on it (I had listened enough to the Dark Lord's tour to recognise at least that). Its eyes were slit like it was a reptile, but the skin wasn't scaly. A forked tongue slithered out of its mouth, tasting the air before it retreated back inside. It was carrying a tray with beverages on it. It bowed respectfully, but didn't talk and set it down on a low table that had just appeared in front of Voldemort and me. It popped away without a sound. I jumped up at the sudden exit; it caught me unaware, as I had been too entranced in my perplexed staring to follow the proceedings.

"It's just a House-Elf."

I turned abruptly back to the Dark Lord, incredulous.

"I know what a House-Elf looks like, and it isn't that.

-That's how mine look." I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead.

"What did you do to them?" Draco had told me the Dark Lord had cursed them to make them more obedient, but it apparently went further than that. It was a bit disgusting, really.

"I made them proud members of the Slytherin household. This ritual has been in the family for generations. It was merely lost before I came here and claimed the lands.

-What does it do?

-Hum, well, for one thing, it lowers their capacity to interpret my orders and go behind my back. By default, they don't do anything else that what I directly order them to do. It was a bit frustrating at the beginning to learn how to be completely explicit, but I got used to it quickly enough. It was worth it. House-Elves have the most horrible habit of doing passive insubordination when they disagree with their masters. Lucius has an Elf, for instance, who keeps misinterpreting his orders on purpose. At some point, he told it that he wanted a copy of the Financial Wizard every morning at his breakfast and the Elf put it in his plate on top of his food. When Lucius specified exactly where he wanted the newspaper to be placed, the Elf found a way to put all sort of disgusting things on top of it or in it. I don't want that sort of trouble with my Elves. It's much simpler if they just don't have opinions and can't betray me, even to the best of their abilities."

_While it is understandable that he doesn't tolerate insubordination of the slightest degree from his servants, it shows that he clearly has a complete disregard to sentient life, or, at least, of creatures classified as non-humanoid_. I added that to my list of things that I didn't like in him. That list would be quite useful since I tended to forget myself when he was there.

"Why do they look like that?" I asked, a bit disgusted by their appearance despite myself. It wasn't as if it was their fault that they were cursed.

-You mean, their reptile-like appearance? It's part of the spell bounding them to the Slytherin descent. They also can only speak Parseltongue. That way, they can't transmit confidential information to anybody else than me."

I put on a neutral face. I had discovered that I was a Parselmouth when I was about 10 when Sirius and I went to a Muggle zoo and I accidently set a snake on unsuspecting (but extremely rude) Muggles. Sirius and I had then agreed that it would be better to keep the secret to us. You never knew when that ability could become useful.

"Are you the only Parseltmouth in the world, then?" I asked.

"No, I know there are at least a few of them in Greece. They are remote descendants from a preeminent Magical Healer in Ancient Greece who did ground breaking research on snake poisons and their antidotes. There should also be a few more scattered around the globe, but in Britain, I think I'm the only one..." He paused for a moment, rubbing his chin distractedly.

"There's always a chance that my brute of an uncle raped some women before he died and managed to produce some bastards...In which case, I could have unknown Parselmouth cousins or second cousins running about. But if they exist, they haven't manifested themselves so far."

_If it's that rare then, how come am I a Parselmouth as well? Could it an effect of the soul mate connection? Should I tell him? Hum...no, better keep an ace up my sleeve just in case. I don't trust him completely yet._

"You sound a bit dismissive of them...

-Well, the fact that I am a Parselmouth and the leader of the British Wizarding Nation has been plastered over the news for years. If they wanted to reconnect, they'd have done it by now. There is also a chance that they aren't magical. There were lots of Squibs and near-Squibs in the recent generations of Gaunts. If that's the case, we'll spot their descendants and bring them over to the Wizarding World the minute they start manifesting magic. I'll judge on what do to with the situation if it ever presents itself."

I nodded. It sounded reasonable. Although...the idea of him having cousins around without knowing for sure felt a bit strange. _Cousins of the Dark Lord! Imagine that! _If I thought I could possible have cousins somewhere in Britain, I'd at least try to get in contact with them...well, normally I would, but my situation now was a bit complicated. I took a sip of my cup of tea from the table in front of me and inhaled the fresh air, looking around at the flowers and exotic plants surrounding us. I could recognise a few new ones from my tutoring with Remus. I felt oddly at peace sitting here next to the Dark Lord. I glanced at him and saw that he had closed his eyes and angled his face up, absorbing the late afternoon sun. I felt my lips pull up in a small content smile. Voldemort looked so human suddenly. Even more than when he was acting all vulnerable earlier.

I bended forward and put my elbows on my legs, looking down at my cup of tea. It had been an eventful day. I glanced again to my left at the Dark Lord. However, overall, it had also been a good day. And it wasn't even dinnertime yet! I laughed a bit under my breath. I saw from the corner of my eyes the other man looking at me as if he was evaluating something.

He got up to his feet suddenly, waiting for me to do the same and when I went to stand next to him, he put his arm around my shoulders again. His magic felt content and warm and swirled lazily around me. He walked us back inside and he stopped in front of a door.

"You can freshen up before dinner if you want. I have some work to do. That will be your room for the moment. It's not the dungeons, but I tried my very best to make it as cold and inhospitable as them, don't worry."

I snorted a laugh and went back to my act of earlier.

"But I thought I was going to sleep in your room..." I teased him with a disappointed voice.

He shuddered exaggeratedly before smirking at me. He took a step forward and put his arms on the door behind on both sides of my head. He brought his face closer to my ear and I felt my breath hitch at his closeness.

"If you ever spend the night in my room, I'm afraid you won't be sleeping much..." He whispered in my ear before pulling back again and continuing in a louder voice. "I'll give you some time to adjust in this room and then we'll see. We wouldn't want to overwhelm you too much; you have such poor control after all." He grinned a snarky smirk.

He turned around and strode away from me down the hall in the direction of his rooms. His gait was strong and confidant, his shoulders and back straight, his legs making powerful strides and his robes billowing gracefully behind him.

Despite my relaxed state, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease and suspicion plaguing me about the whole soul mate situation. I frowned my brow. It felt as if they only came back when the Dark Lord left. Was his presence affecting me somehow?

I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts and went in my room.

I'd keep my doubts to myself for the moment. But I'd be careful with my heart. _Just treat it as fun opportunity, and nothing else. Then you have nothing to loose. _I thought to myself.

...

I guess I was wrong about that.

* * *

So, they are getting more comfortable with each other and learning their boundaries.

In the next chapter, Harry will research the whole soul mate question and we will discover at last if the Rebels were right about the status of Muggles under the Dark Lord's regime.

Thank you so much in advance for reviewing! You guys are awesome! :)


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

With the last chapter, we have just passed the 500 reviews threshold! Thank you very much, my dear readers! Thank you to the passionate, the enthusiastic, the sceptical and the critical, the squealing and the analytical, the pessimistic, the optimistic, and everybody in between! I want to know what all of you think of this story! And remember, reviews are a fanfiction author's best friends! ;) (I felt poetic today...and I visibly suck at poetry, so I'll stick to prose. :P)

FanFictionLover: Who knows? I like to let the possibility hanging in the background. That way, you'll always be suspicious of the Dark Lord's cousins popping over now! ;) I'll say this much though. I'm not writing any OC in this fic. There are enough characters in the books without having to add my own extra-duper powerful and cool problem-solving down-to-earth genius beautiful sexy characters. Not to mention that I'm really really bad at making up original names.

Enjoy!

_§ Parseltongue §_

* * *

Chapter 25: 1st to 14th of September 1997: The Muggle problem

Despite the eventful beginning of my sojourn here and my quip at the Dark Lord's age, I soon discovered that he was about the furthest one could be from an idle man.

On the evening of the first, he told me that I wouldn't see much of him in the next few days because the approaching ICW meeting was taking most of his time as of late and that he had dallied with me too much that day to delay his work and research any further.

I lifted a brow at the man. It wasn't as if I expected him to entertain me anyway. I said as much to him, adding that I would be fine as long as he showed me where his library was.

He graciously agreed and, after dinner that night, showed me his precious treasure. It was obviously the biggest room of the fortress at the basis, but it had also clearly been extended by the Dark Lord over time to accommodate his ginormous collection.

The British Magical Library, as it turned out, had copied a great part of its books from his own private collection and he had taken advantage of the completion of the project to glean the few interesting books he didn't already have. Apparently, under the guise of gathering the Library copies, he got precious books with which greedy owners had refused to part before, objecting that he would use the knowledge for his own personal advancement. Which he totally had or would, by the way. But well, the final result was this cathedral dedicated to the written word, and he gave me free access to it!

To my greatest embarrassment, my comment on how it was even better than the British Library sparked some interrogations from the Dark Lord, and, as I couldn't really explain why I left the first time without checking any books without explaining about the thrice accursed tongue-happy librarian...well...I ended up sharing the whole thing with him (except for whom I thought of during the actual kiss). He was surprisingly incensed by Cedric's behaviour and it prompted another rather intense session of kissing, the second that day, which started again by a great shove on the closest wall. I was already too far gone to care about it and even found his possessive behaviour unbelievably arousing, but, in hindsight, it was quite funny how he seemed obsessed with pressing me against the closest flat surface he could find.

We hadn't gone further than that in the following days, however, thankfully for my nerves. I couldn't deny that I wanted him, but really, it was all moving so fast. Not two months ago, I had never even met him in person! I barely had any time to get used to his presence and his intoxicating magic that we had already started this peculiar, but pleasant, arrangement. Not to mention that there was suddenly a whole new 'soul mate' component to the equation.

In the days that followed, I had taken to scour the Dark Lord's library for any mentions of soul mates. With the help of an index spell, I barely found some mentions of it in popular magical fictions (Voldemort had that kind of books here?). The only serious books that talked about it said that it was a myth and that such a thing didn't exist. After a few days, I did find a few mentions of soul mates in non-fictions, but the way they were written was oddly choppy and, upon closer examination, they seemed to contradict themselves in their chapters other than the ones entitled 'soul mates'. I didn't know what to think of it. I was suspicious of their sudden appearance.

If the Dark Lord thought he had a soul mate, wouldn't he have done a lot of research about it, as he seemed to always do for other subjects? Wouldn't there be a lot more books about soul mates in here if that were the case? Nothing said in those books (even in the dubious ones) was conclusive evidence confirming the existence of the phenomenon, after all. But, if Voldemort and I weren't soul mates, how could I explain our weird connection? It seemed even more acute those days. Whenever he felt a spike of annoyance or delight, I'd get an echo of it. It felt centered around my scar. That was another mystery. Why was my scar reacting, and not...my magical core, for instance? Why didn't I feel it in my head, but more at the surface of my forehead? How to explain this?

One day, when I was growing increasingly frustrated and it was getting closer to dinnertime without having found anything of significance after a whole day of research, I thought that I could have done the index spell wrong and decided to give it another shot. I had verified the spell and its wand movement in an old book covered with dust. It was a variation of the spell that allowed references of the books that mentioned a subject to be written on a provided piece of paper. After double-checking everything again and closing the cover of the old book a bit too fast, a cloud of dust came up and made me sneeze in the middle of my spell. My research, instead of being about soul mates, came out as about "soul ma*tschihh* end of word incomprehensible, please choose between the following subjects: soul madness, soul mages, soul magic, soul matter, soul mates, etc. "

My eyes stopped on the unknown term 'soul magic'. I intrigued me but, before I could do anything about it, one of the Dark Lord's Elves popped in the library to signal that it was time for dinner. It couldn't do much more than simply bow and indicate the door, but from time to time, I could hear a few comments from them indicating that they might not be as void and brainwashed inside as the Dark Lord wanted them to be. That day, for instance, the Elf whispered _§ Young Master, please, dinner is served. Nice, polite young Master..._ §

Okay, maybe not the revelation of the century, but it was quite surprising of them to call me 'young Master' since it's a title normally granted to the heir of a family, or so had Draco told me when I owled him about it.

.

o0o0o

I sadly didn't have the chance to research soul magic after that. That night at dinner, the Dark Lord told me he needed the library for his research. I replied that I had been quite surprised not to see him there in the past few days and asked him if I could still be there at the same time. After that evening, it seemed like a new routine was found where we would both work in the library together, him at a massive desk in the middle of the place and me on the comfortable sofas not far from there. From time to time, I'd take a break and watch him for a while. If he felt my gaze, he would ignore it, send me a quick smirk or start a conversation with me.

.

I found the answer to the famous 'Muggle dilemma' I had after such an exchange. As it turned out, Muggles indeed didn't have much more rights than animals, but it was only because the Dark Lord hadn't cared enough to change the laws that had been put in effect by the previous government.

Muggles, he claimed, were vermin and, as such, below our notice. To grant them enough attention to actively persecute them was not only contradictory; it was also counter-productive and potentially dangerous. We had a long discussion about the subject of the ICW conference coming up (how the new 'Internet' technology could affect the Status of Secrecy) and the different ways to keep the Magical World separate from the Muggle World.

I didn't know much about how Muggle technologies worked, but I had come in contact with more of it than the majority of modern wizards when I was studying for my driving license. Telephones, televisions and even computers didn't scare me and I knew the basics of how to use them. It turned out that the Dark Lord knew even more than I did, having kept up with the scientific advancement through his years, despite his well-publicised hatred for all that was Muggle.

.

One evening, he told me of the sheer terror he had felt when London was bombed in the Second World War. His orphanage hadn't been touched, thankfully, but he had stood there, waiting for his death, the explosions shaking the thin walls of the building as his fate was put in the hands of total strangers, and he had promised to himself that he would never feel this vulnerable again in his life.

He had listened in silent horror as news of the atomic bombs came to Britain in 1945 and had kept a close eye on the Cold War throughout its duration, ready for drastic measures if a globalised conflict erupted again.

As far as he was concerned, war was in human nature and it wasn't surprising that Muggles would create such weapons if they had the capacity and drive to do so. But, in this world, it was a survival of the fittest and he wasn't about to let himself be beaten by meagre beings that didn't have one ounce of beautiful, sweet magic in their body. If intellect and innovation were their weapons of choice, he'd beat them with that as well.

His fight to the top of British Wizarding Society wasn't purely to justify his selfish ambition, but also to enable change, to 'kick-start' a new age of magical innovation and prosperity and to revolution this world to give it the tools needed to face the Muggle menace when it would come down to that. His policies with Muggleborns were determined with the objective of buying the Magical World time to form good defensive and offensive strategies against the Muggle World should the secret be revealed to them.

Throughout the whole conversation, I had sat there, shock still, my ears and eyes wide open taking everything in. How could the Rebels have missed all that? I asked as much to the Dark Lord. He replied that these justifications were not widely known because it would create panic in the Magical World and, when in fear, Wizards were more likely to commit fatal mistakes that would reveal their existence to the Muggles, by going Muggle hunting or doing raids on random populations, for instance.

I asked him whether he did condone Muggle hunting and Muggle baiting, as Moody had said and he answered that they did hunt down specific Muggles who knew our secret when he felt that they were a threat. The strange serial killer who had assassinated all the former Prime Ministers of Britain, for instance, had been working on his orders, since apparently Muggle Prime Ministers used to be informed of the major events of our world. It was a monumental breach of security, in Voldemort's opinion. To consider that the Ministry of Magic was but a branch of the Muggle government was also a travesty of the worst sort, according to him. I must say that after hearing him describe the visceral fear he felt in the face of such tremendous mass killing weapons (and that was fifty years ago, so I could barely imagine the destructive power the Muggles had now), I was inclined to agree with him.

The nature of a wizard's wand and magic was such that spells that targeted a large group of people at a time were particularly difficult and straining. Usually, affecting the environment around the group was much easier than bewitching all of them at the same time. If you wanted to kill a group of 30 people, for instance, you should make the ceiling collapse on them instead of trying to send Killing curses and such left and right.

Nevertheless, the fact that you nearly had to attack everybody one by one to hurt them was a reassuring reality of the Wizarding World. In a Muggle gunfight, one only had to fire a gun at a crowd of people and some would die independently of who they were or how competent they were. For wizards, the nature of magic meant that you usually had a chance to get away from a combat alive depending on your abilities. In theory, if you trained well enough, or had some luck, you could beat the opponent or survive a general attack. Death seemed less meaningless and random in the Wizarding World. Violence was more personal here.

That is not to say that we were powerless against Muggles, however. In the past twenty years, in great part thanks to the Dark Lord himself, in fact, we had developed all sorts of spells to defend ourselves against most of Muggle weapons. But atomic bombs and weapons of mass destruction remained an insurmountable obstacle.

The conversation had shaken me to the core that day. It made me feel paranoid and jittery, as if waiting for a bomb to drop on the Dark Lord's Fortress.

He seemed to understand, because he hauled me to my feet and directed me to my bedroom, pushing me inside and closing the door with a short "Put on your sleepwear". I did so mechanically, in a daze, my eyes darting to every shadowy corner in the room nervously, my hands shaking slightly. When I was done changing, I opened the door again and felt him pull me by the arm toward his chambers.

I tried to get out of my state of numbness and vaguely knew that some part of me was shouting me to pay attention, that something important was happening, but its voice didn't reach my brain because I didn't snap out of it before I was shown to a massive bed and directed to lay on it under the covers. I lied in there curled on my side, unmoving, frowning and blinking slowly, wondering when I had changed into pyjamas and where I was exactly.

I only remembered the Dark Lord's presence when I felt the bed dip behind me and heard him sigh. I jerked when arms suddenly surrounded me and I was pulled back into a warm and lightly muscled chest. Calming magic soothed me, and a wave of calm and relaxing energy immediately submerged me. It made my previously taut muscles become lax and my magic hum in contentment. I released a sigh and fell asleep.

That night was the deepest sleep I ever had.

.

* * *

Muggles are scary, right?

Next chapter, things will be moving a lot more: Meeting a new Death Eater character, a small fight, a big revelation and a plot development!

Thank you in advance to everybody who will review! You guys are awesome! :)


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to everyone who favourited, followed and reviewed this story! I really appreciate your support!

Guest reviews' answers:

Guest: I'm glad you like libraries :P They do play an important role in this story, simply because it's where you used to find answers before Internet (a time I barely remember) and Harry has a lot of questions.

autumngold: I'm glad you liked it! Harry is indeed starved for information after his time with the Rebels. And Voldemort was sweet, awww :D

FanFictionLover: Ha! It was exactly like that for me as well: The progressive decline from original fictions, to het fanfiction, to slash fanfiction...and now I'm stuck, hooked, as you said. *sighs* But I do love it...If Voldie ever teaches Cedric a lesson, I don't think he'd do it in front of Harry, so...maybe we won't find out before the next LVPOV? :P I managed an In-Character HPLV fluff? Yes! Bring it on! Hopefully you'll like the little slash in this chapter too ;)

Warnings: torture, mentions of prolonged abuse, slight slash (not all on the same person, of course)

_§ Parseltongue §_

* * *

Chapter 26th: 15th of September: Bellabitch

The next morning I woke up alone in my bedroom and wondered if I had imagined the previous evening. The sun was streaming from the window, bathing the room in a golden light. So far, it had been a particularly sunny and warm September.

I got up and put on my sports clothing to go jog around the lands. Despite have kept up my training regimen, I had only gone outside twice so far and I hadn't had the chance to explore the grounds completely. I had seen enough to conclude, however, that the Dark Lord's Fortress stood on an island, and that the island probably belonged to him in its entirety. I knew that there were a lot of small islands along the coast of Scotland, so I guessed (even if it was far-fetched) that I might be somewhere close to Hogwarts. The propriety had belonged to one of its Founders, after all.

After jogging for a good while, I felt hungry and decided to head back.

On my way, close to the Fortress, I saw Nagini, Voldemort's familiar, lounging in the warm sun lazily. I had seen her a couple of times and had scrupulously kept a clueless face when I heard the Dark Lord and her converse. It was amazing how comfortable they felt talking about all sorts of confidential issues when I was there because they were sure that I wouldn't understand them. Well, it was their problem if they weren't clever enough to test me better before speaking freely.

So far, I hadn't discovered anything truly shocking apart from that snakes could apparently be quite lewd and have a sense of humour. In those moments, it had been particularly difficult to keep my poker face, and my Occlumency shields had been very helpful.

At my approach, Nagini lifted her head to look at me. _§_ _Stupid human,§ _she hissed at me, _§ why don't you come here and make yourself useful?_ _§_

I watched her cautiously for a bit, pretending not to understand, but she gave a sort of twitch with her head that I knew meant a command to come closer. I approached her wearily. I wasn't afraid of her, partly because I had heard the Dark Lord tell her clearly that she wasn't to bite me, but I didn't want to accidentally reveal my gift, so I tried to keep my distance from her as best as I could. The snake herself had apparently thwarted my resolution.

_§ Be a good human and come rub my scales. My shedding is coming in a few days and my skin feels itchy. Human nails are perfect to scratch. § _

I lifted a hesitant hand, faking that I was uncertainly waiting for her approval to touch her. She bobbed her head once in agreement and I started rubbing her soft skin. It was surprisingly smooth. I scratched lightly the scales and she hissed in delight.

_§ I'm changing my mind. You're perfect for Master. He should keep you. Ssssssss, right there, yessss...oh little human, if you continue to do that I'll slide a good word in for the Master on your behalf, what do you say? Maybe I can even convince him to have hatchlings with you if that makes him keep you around...but you'll have to scratch me like that every time you see me, got it, little human? § _she hissed.

I felt myself redden despite my best efforts when I heard her talk about hatchlings. Really now, it was wayyyy too early to say anything like that, even if I supposedly was the Dark Lord's soul mate. I knew that there were Potions that allowed a woman to carry the baby of two men, but I didn't think I'd live long enough to have use of it. I only heard of it because, a few months ago, when I had gathered all my Gryffindor courage and told Sirius that I thought I was gay, he made me go through 'the talk' again, 'special edition'. It was extremely graphic and uncomfortable, but it was also useful because it really covered just about any questions I could have had about the subject. I could have done without the allusions to centaurs, though. Even if I loved him deeply, Sirius' teasing had always been a bit too scandalous for my taste.

Back to the snake. I did want Nagini to have a good opinion of me, so I continued to rub and scratch her. I just hoped she wouldn't talk about babies in front of Voldemort because I probably wouldn't be able to keep myself from reddening and that would give my secret away quite easily.

I looked down at her. She had fallen asleep again, so I left her to go take a shower and have breakfast. When I was done with my morning routine, I hurried to the library to work on some of the homework Remus had given me for our tutoring tomorrow. I was really starting to get a good grasp on Potions thanks to Snape's reluctant help and we had agreed that I would review every potion with Remus before and after my weekly session with the Potions Master to make them as efficient and useful as possible. It really helped the man's temper if I looked like I knew what I was working on. At this rhythm, I thought I would be at OWL level in Potions before Yule. I still didn't know what the Dark Lord and I would do about the Duel. It seemed a bit pointless now, but it was still useful to guarantee my safety in this relatively hostile environment and I wasn't sure I wanted to forfeit now...

.

I entered in the library distractedly and stopped short when I saw the Dark Lord sitting in his usual spot, surrounded by mountains of books. I suddenly remembered with perfect clarity the previous' evening events.

I felt myself blush as I recalled how catatonic I was in his bed. Well, that seriously wasn't how I thought our first night sleeping together would happen (if he had slept there at all before sending me back to my bedroom). However, I was grateful for the comfort he provided. I really hadn't expected that of him.

And I wasn't a noble honorary Gryffindor for nothing. I straightened my shoulders and went closer to the powerful man. When I arrived in front of the table where he was working, I cleared my throat to get his attention. I knew he had been aware of my presence from the very moment I opened the door, or maybe earlier if he could feel my magic like I could feel his.

He slowly put down his quill and lifted his head to look at me. Despite having been in close proximity with him for the last two weeks or so, I still felt a slight shock whenever he looked at me. As if his masculine beauty wasn't difficult enough to get used to, having all this magic directed toward me was an unending sweet torment.

I moistened my lips in nervousness and told him:

"Thank you for yesterday. I guess I really needed that."

The left corner of his lips lifted up in a small half-smile.

"You're welcome. I think you can understand why I don't announce it to the Wizarding population. It would cause general panic." He replied with his habitual smooth and strong voice.

I felt something soften inside of me when I looked at him. Maybe being this man's soul mate wasn't such a bad thing in the end. Maybe I should just feel very lucky to have such a close connection to this charismatic man.

I sent a grateful smile to him. It would have been so easy for him to mock me for my weak behaviour, but instead he reassured me.

I circled around the table until I was standing next to him. He leaned on the back of his chair, an elbow on one of its arms, watching me approach attentively.

When I got there, I had to gather my courage again before I bent down and went to press my lips against his. I stopped at a hair's width of them, remembering his previous reaction to unauthorised kisses. When he didn't react in protest, I touched his lips slowly rubbing them against mine. There were as silky as I remembered. I had to hold myself back when I wanted to taste them as the position I was in, nearly bent in half, wasn't very comfortable.

When I began to withdraw, however, I felt the Dark Lord's hands grasp my knees and pull them sharply toward him. I had to place them on both sides of him on the chair and my hands on his shoulders to keep from falling on him. His hands trailed up my legs slowly to rest on my hips and he grasped them, pulling me down on his lap and claiming my lips with his. It happened so fast that I wasn't sure how I ended up sitting on his lap, kissing him passionately, but the question left my head altogether when I felt his tongue slide boldly into my mouth. I hummed at the taste and pressed myself reflectively against him, my hands sliding up to caress the back of his neck and play in his hair. His magic seeped in me again, alighting my nerves and making me shiver and battle his tongue with renewed vigour. His hands guided my hips to ground them against his lap in a tantalising rhythm.

.

The moment was completely shattered by a resounding shriek. I nearly fell down on the floor in my haste to get up from the Dark Lord's lap. I felt a spell coming toward my back and I dodged quickly, drawing my wand, and whirling around to face my new opponent.

A woman was standing there, a few feet away, wand pointed at me and two others were with her, but their heads were strangely bent toward the floor, their body turned away as if they were shying away from their companion.

The woman who attacked me had long black hair flying in disarray around her head. She looked at me with a disgusted sneer on her lips and a crazy glint sparkling in her heavy-lidded eyes.

"You whore! Get away from him! How dare you besmirch my Lord's magnificence by plastering yourself over him! You are not even worthy of crawling at his feet and being crushed by his boots!" She shouted at the top of her lungs.

She shot me dark curses and after dark curses all throughout her indignant speech. I was a bit embarrassed to have been caught in such a compromising position, especially since the rest of the world thought I was supposed to be the Dark Lord's nemesis, but I wasn't about to let myself get cursed by this crazy hag.

I swiftly dodged or blocked everything she sent my way. I itched to send back a few curses of my own (_Who did she think she was, just barging in and attacking me?)_, but I didn't want to hit the two others who stood at her side cowering in fright. They reminded me of someone, but I couldn't remember who...

I shot a look of annoyance to the Dark Lord. Why wasn't he doing anything? Wasn't she his follower...or maybe...could she be another lover? He had never confirmed he was exclusively gay, after all, so, for all I knew, perhaps he liked women as well. I dearly hoped it wasn't the case. It would not only be awkward, but it also made my stomach crawl to imagine him lying next to this harpy.

At long last, the Dark Lord spoke. I think he liked to see me dodge spells around like a fool a bit too much.

"Bella. Restrain yourself." He said in an authoritative voice.

She halted the barrage of curses immediately and pouted at him obstinately as if she was a little girl and he had just stolen her doll. She let a little shriek of frustration when he shook his head at her and she quickly turned her anger to the two with which she entered and shouted "_Crucio_!".

They fell on the ground, shouting and writhing in pain. It was horrible. I knew of the Unforgivables, of course. I had even learnt how to do them from Moody, but we had focused our efforts on the Killing curse because the Cruciatus wasn't productive enough in a duelling environment and nobody was stupid enough to try an _Imperio_ on the Dark Lord. So, although I did know about it and saw it enacted on small animals and insects, my heart still wrenched when I heard these soul-deep cries of pain and the sound quickly became intolerable.

I didn't know what the two did to deserve this, but I couldn't just stand by without doing anything, the Dark Lord's will be damned.

I shot a stunning spell at her. She quickly dropped her torture and turned around to face me again, shooting curses. I dodged them as easily as earlier, this time replying to them while staying attentive enough not to send dangerous spells that could harm the two at her side.

The Dark Lord, when the fighting became too aggressive, sent us both flying into the bookshelves, which had apparently been warded against the onslaught of spells and flying bodies. I picked myself up with as much dignity as I could gather and got back to my feet quickly, satisfied that at least I had interrupted the harpy's torture session.

Speaking of the hag, she was now whining to the Dark Lord that it wasn't fair and that he shouldn't have interrupted the fight just when she was about to 'teach the insolent and presumptuous whelp a lesson'.

"It's you who has forgotten your place, Bella. You dared to contest my decisions and to attack what is mine. You deserve punishment. _Crucio!_"

There had already been too much of this Unforgivable for one day, in my opinion, without the Dark Lord adding to it. I didn't care much for the woman, and he didn't seem to either, but seeing him torture her like that reminded me of what the Rebels said about him: That he was an insane man who relished on the pain he caused to this followers. I could see where they were coming from. The Dark Lord looked enraptured by the woman's whimpers of pain. An eager look was lighting up his face and a predatory smile bared his teeth. He was still so handsome that he looked like a fallen angel.

Embarrassingly, I had trouble keeping my own whimpers down. The magic spread in the room was darker than usual, as seductive and oppressive as it was the first time I met him, and the intensity of it was making me dizzy. I wanted to be furious or disgusted by his extreme reaction to the situation. Sure, his follower had stepped over her boundaries, but was this cruelty really so necessary? He could have just stopped her before if he was so displeased by how she acted.

After a while, he looked bored of his torture and lifted his spell up.

The woman crawled up to his feet on the ground.

"Ah, Master, I didn't want to disobey your will, please believe me! I'm your most devoted servant, I have always been! Please, please, punish me more; make me suffer for my shameful actions! I deserve it, and more!"

The servile voice was sickening.

The Dark seemed to agree with me, since he sneered at her and returned to his seat behind the table.

"I will not waste a second more of my time on trying to teach you a lesson you should have learnt years ago, Bellatrix." The name of the woman suddenly clicked in my head. This woman was Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the most famous generals of the Dark Lord during the war? _How the mighty have fallen_, I thought fleetingly before remembering that Sirius had told me his cousin had always been crazy. Why Voldemort kept her around at all was a mystery to me.

She had climbed back up to her feet while I was thinking and now looked strangely composed.

"My Lord, Lucius sent me to inform you of the latest developments with the rebels." She sneered, either at the idea of being sent by the Minister, or at her mention of the Rebels.

The Dark Lord glanced in my direction, as if he was evaluating something, and nodded to her.

"My Lord, the team of wardmakers hasn't been able to determine what exactly happened at Malfoy Manor to make the wards collapse, but it seems like the security breach came from within the Manor itself. Lucius has interrogated the House Elves and has ascertained the presence of a traitor in their midst. The House Elf in question had always been particularly resistant to discipline, according to him, but he apparently was directed to help the Rebels by one of their allies who has contacts within the House Elf network. Lucy and Barty have determined that it must be a relatively new ally of the Rebels since we have never had any previous breach on this front before. They are trying to discover the identity of this traitor, but, so far, the only thing we know is that it is a woman and that she is known to the House Elves as 'Oninny'. "

Bellatrix's lips had curled in disgust at the nickname. She stood there, waiting for the Dark Lord's orders. He looked pensive and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. When she left the room, followed quickly by the other two who scurried behind her, he turned to me.

"Do you know anything about it? If House Elves were to join the rebellion, it would be an important security breach, since most Purebloods use them."

I frowned pensively.

"I didn't know about House Elves directly, but I knew they had been happy to find an unexpected ally at some point in the last months. Apparently, they hadn't done anything to recruit her; she contacted them herself and it seemed like she agreed to most of their goals without requiring the usual...persuasion methods."

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow at me, silently asking me to elaborate on that point.

"I don't want to say too much without negotiating. It's in my notes."

I tried to sound firm, but I had trouble stopping myself from answering those questions. The silence fell for a while. I saw Voldemort pondering this new development.

I suddenly recalled a question I had for him.

"Who are the two people with whom she came? Were they slaves?

-Slavery isn't legal in the Wizarding World, at least, not for creatures that initially had above a level two of sentience.

-Initially?" That seemed like a peculiar choice of word.

"Ah, yes, I'm afraid that, if this couple used to be two very intelligent and competent Aurors, nothing much of their previous state remains today. They are lost within themselves. The only time they regain some of their former...vivacity...is when they are being tortured again. Strange who nature does things sometimes..." He drifted off pensively.

Something he said rang a bell in my head, and I suddenly remembered something in a flash.

"The Longbottoms? Neville's parents? That was them?" I was scandalised. "You gave them as toys to the woman who broke their minds?! That's horrible!"

"Well, it's not as if they can really understand what's happening to them. They are trapped inside their mind. If anything, torture brings them back to the surface temporarily. "

That was sickening. I couldn't let that happen to them.

"Why did you give them to that insane woman? They should be in a mental institution!

-Bella asked for them after my Victory. It was the least I could do to thank one of my best generals. All the rest of them had high placed positions in the new Ministry, but Bellatrix wasn't mentally stable enough to be given any type of responsibility. She asked for them, so I agreed. Her husband makes sure that they are clothed, fed and bathed regularly. I don't see a problem with it.

-Why does she want to hurt them so badly? Why them? I don't understand...

-During a battle before my...temporary demise, Frank Longbottom, who was a prestigious Auror at the time, quickly climbing the ranks, shot a miscarriage spell on her. It wasn't well known that Bellatrix was pregnant then since it was rather early in the pregnancy. It was supposed to be her last battle before she retired of the active scene; a sort of farewell she insisted on having. It was later discovered that her Healer had leaked the information to the Aurors after he saw the Dark Mark on Bellatrix' forearm. The miscarriage was brutal and bloody and she nearly died. She was told that she could never have other children because of the heavy internal damage and scarring. She never was the same after that. She had always been prone to bouts of madness during a fight, but it slowly seeped into her daily life after this event and her short stay in Azkaban made it worse. The result is what you saw today. She's unstable. Sometimes, like when she gave the report, she's mostly sane and back to how she used to be, but a lot of little things can trigger her madness. There's really nothing we can do about it, except keep her in line and away from vulnerable citizens as much as possible."

I sat there, pondering the tragic story. I knew she was known to be ruthless and dangerous, and Sirius had called her insane a couple of times, but to know the origin of this insanity made a big part of my anger at her behaviour vanish. Was she really responsible for her actions if she had a mental problem, or was it more her guardian's fault for letting her roam around free? And even then, they probably wanted to give her something useful to do and thought she'd only meet the Dark Lord here...Responsible or not, however, I couldn't leave Neville's parents in such a horrible situation. I told as much to the Dark Lord.

"You could negotiate for their release," he answered, as if he had been expecting my reaction.

"With what?" I asked.

"With your notes on the rebels. Give them to me and I'll make sure that the Longbottoms are placed in a mental institution."

I frowned, evaluating the deal.

"I want Neville to be allowed to visit them whenever he wants without facing persecution. And I don't want Bellatrix to have access to them anymore."

The Dark Lord joined his hands together on his lap, looking at me considerately.

"I'll have to find a replacement toy for Bella. She needs someone she can take her anger on or she will become too dangerous to the people around her.

-You could give her the traitor House-Elf..." The words came out of my mouth before I could realise what I was saying. I didn't want anybody to be treated like the Longbottoms were. Why did I suggest that? I was horrified. I opened my mouth to take back what I said but the Dark Lord interrupted me.

"Ah, ah" he tut-tutted at me, "that was a good idea, Harry. You can't take it back; I've already decided to implement it. Don't be too downhearted though, you have just saved the House-Elf's life. He would have been killed for his insubordination, normally. This is a perfect alternative to what I had in mind. So, do we have a deal? The notes against the Longbottoms?" he asked me, extending his hand to shake.

I nodded reluctantly and shook it, knowing I probably wouldn't be able to have a better deal for them. The notes were not that elaborate, after all, nor did they contain everything I knew of the Rebels, only the great lines. They'd have to ask for more details, and I could always negotiate again with them then. Besides, I didn't think I'd be able to live with myself if I didn't do anything to save the Longbottoms immediately just because I was waiting for a better deal to come up.

I went to sit on my usual couch to think of what had happened and start my Potions notes.

I shot a glance in the Dark Lord's direction while I was sharpening his quill. The man had returned to his work. He wouldn't appreciate being interrupted again so soon, not with the ICW meeting coming up in just a few days.

I swore in my head at the woman for interrupting what had been a very heated kiss before resigning myself to focus on my work.

_Polyjuice Potion, here we come._

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Tragic story with Bella, right? Do you think Harry did a good or a bad move with his deal?

Next chapter: A long-awaited Neville's POV and a Weasley twins' POV.

Thanks in advance for reviewing! :)


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank for putting this story in your favourites or your alerts and for reviewing. I really appreciate your support! :)

Boblove321: Then you'll like chapter 28 ;)

FanFictionLover: Don't you think I create some...anticipation by announcing a slash in advance? I'm afraid I won't take you up on your suggestion this time, but maybe the next I will ;) And I laughed when I read your "Thank Heavens Het is still at least slightly interesting". I feel exactly the same :P

Andddd, on with the show!

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Chapter 27: 23rd of September 1997: A Rebellious Interlude

Neville was busy preparing his garden for the winter. Well, he said 'his garden' but it belonged to the whole Rebel camp, really. It produced food for all of them and Neville was particularly proud of being able to provide for these people who had taken him in after the loss of his parents and the death of his Grandmother. The latter had joined the war effort on Dumbledore's side when the Dark Lord came back to life, but she hadn't lasted long in the bloody battles that followed. She had been a Pureblood lady, after all: an administrator of the Longbottom's wealth and the perfect party host, not a fighter. He carried a picture of her and his parents with him everyday in the pocket of his robes.

He sighted tiredly, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

Ever since Harry left the village, a lot of things had changed. The rest of the Rebels had been furious. They saw all the time and effort they invested in making him a powerful fighter as a complete loss, or a gain for the other side.

Neville didn't think Harry had joined the other side. The Dark Lord had killed his parents, after all, and this was the kind of things you could never forget or forgive. He knew this better than anyone else, since they nearly did the same thing to his parents.

He thought Harry just got tired of the pressure. He could understand that better than anyone else as well: Ever since Harry left, Moody had come out with his theory of the 'alternate Chosen One' to the rest of the camp and suddenly everyone's attention was focused on him.

Now, everything he did was analysed and every minute of his time was calculated to fit in a maximum of training. The only time where he could relax was when he was working on his garden, but, most of the time, he was too tired even for that. The pressure they put on him was stifling, especially since he was far from the level of proficiency Harry had shown in magical combat.

He now understood why Harry had felt the need to escape. He longed to as well. To just get out of here, even for just a stroll like he used to. Before, nobody had cared if he wanted to go walk around in the Muggle World. They'd shout to him a nice 'be careful' whenever he'd head out and welcome him back with a good-natured quip about how he went to visit a hypothetical Muggle girlfriend out of the wards. Now, when he wanted to get out, he was interrogated and firmly dissuaded.

He had suddenly become 'too precious to loose'. He hated his new status and he hated Moody for 'outing' him to the rest of the Rebels. But he was also scared of Moody. The artificial eye had always given him nightmares, but now it was his barking commands that made him jerk awake in cold sweat at night.

This whole thing was so hopeless. He had told Moody about the oath he made to the Dark Lord, but Moody felt it wasn't absolute enough to really prevent him from facing the Leader of the British Wizarding World. Neville rather thought that Moody would have said that even if he had sworn an Unbreakable Vow. He could feel that Moody's patience with him was dwindling down. Soon he'd probably get tired of his second failed Saviour and take the matter in his own hands. He had already upped the amount of raids and the recruiting efforts. There was also something huge being planned. Apparently, some of their new allies brought some interesting new weapons on the table and it opened new realms of possibilities. Neville tried not to think too much about it. It gave him the hibbie jibbies.

His attention was thankfully drawn away from the topic by the arrival of an owl. They rarely came to the Rebel's camp and never to him. He didn't know anybody outside who could have sent him something. _Apart from Harry._ The thought flashed in his mind and he quickly took the letter from the owl's leg, ripping it open. Moody would have his head if he knew that he opened the letter without sending scanning it beforehand. He would also be furious and demand to be shown the letter first 'for his own good', of course. Neville didn't care. If Harry sent him something, he'd read it first, and Merlin, the other Rebels be damned!

He recognised Harry's scrawling calligraphy. It hadn't improved. _And neither had his grammar, apparently_, he thought with a wince. That was another consequence of Harry's focused combat training. He didn't get to go to Muggle school like Neville had and learn about basic things like English and Maths...Anyway, the note was pretty short. It read:

_Nevile_

_I hope you get this leter. The Rebel wards sometime block leters, I think._

_Im wirting this because I discovered something hear about your Parents. I got a__ deal to place them in a mental institution were you can go to visit them. You wont get trouble for it, I made sure of it, dont wory._

_The place name is called Yannus Tikey's mental ward, or something like that. It's in the out skirt of Manchester. I cheked a bit, you can take the mugle coatch number 341 from the central __cotch__ station (you remember we went their at some point to look at the locs because sirius in a faze were he liked muggle boats) to get there and it will take you about hour. The bus stop is called 'Museum', you go down and you walk around the museum until you see a flower boot and then you go rigth and down a ally until you see a broken window and then you go in it. It looks bad but inside its suposed to be nice and confortable. You just ask for the Widebukle, we changed there name so that nobody know exept from you and us. Ok?_

_Then you can aparrate home. _

_Its not a trap, please beleive me, I swear. You know I wouldnt do that. Its not like me to trap, Im too direct for that. _

_Sorry about the nose. I hope its fine by now._

_Not sorry about leaving __thouw__. _

_I hope you go to see them,_

_HP_

_PS: Padfoot_

Neville let the parchment roll on itself while he thought. It clearly was Harry. The bad calligraphy and the mistakes were all his and it's not as if they were really apparent when he spoke, so someone would really have to know him well to imitate his style so perfectly. He had often wondered if Harry wasn't dyslexic, but nobody could answer him now. The lack of formal education was blatant, however.

He looked at the _Post Scriptum_ again. He knew that Sirius's nickname was Padfoot, but why write that there? It didn't make any sense! It made him think of the games they had played together when they were younger. The entertainment possibilities in the Rebel camp had always been very limited for children and Harry didn't know much outside of his training, so they couldn't talk about the Muggles things Neville learnt at school. He had tried to teach it to Harry, but he was struggling to understand it well in the first place so he couldn't really explain it. It was just confusing Harry more.

At some point, Harry came back from a special day of training with Remus, who was still there at that point. He said that they had learnt about secret messages and passwords. Apparently, Remus had developed a certain expertise in it while he was working on a magical map of Hogwarts with Harry's father and the other Marauders.

Harry and he had amused themselves for hours just thinking up passwords and coding their messages. Remus even gave them the Marauder's Map and challenged them to discover the password. They had tried everything, every sentences that passed through their heads at the time, but without finding it.

Weeks later, painfully, bits of magic after and another, Harry had managed to piece it back together. He never got the activation sentence, but had managed to crack the magic beneath it. How he did it, Neville had no idea, but then again, Harry had always had this intuitive connection with his magic. When they learnt about wards, for instance, he took up very quickly to them and was soon playing and creating his own combinations of wards and testing their strengths. It was just...typical Harry.

Anyway, after he cracked the Map, they went to see his godfather and Remus and they were both flabbergasted. They took the Map from him and did the activation process in front of us to make sure that Harry hadn't broken anything while fiddling with it. In the process, they gave us the password.

At that moment, Harry had turned to him and just winked. Neville had never asked him if he was winking because he didn't really know the activation code and had just made them believe he cracked the Map to get them to tell him, or if he had really managed it on his own. Whichever of the two it was, Neville would probably never know, but he would always remember the code for which they had worked so hard and that meaningful wink Harry had sent him when he heard it.

He decided to test the sequence on Harry's letter. He took his wand out and pressed the tip to the paper. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." The ink of the message vanished, only to reveal two new lines.

_Neville, if you change you're mind about what we discused last time, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll help you out as best as I can, I promiss. You don't have to be stuck like I was._

Neville sighed; thinking of this new dilemma Harry had given him. He believed the other boy when he said that it wasn't a trap. Like Harry had said in the original letter, it just wasn't his style. That left the question of where Harry met his parents and how he had managed to negotiate a 'deal' with their minders.

Nobody in the camp had heard anything about him since he left. They all thought they would get a newspaper just days after his departure with a catchy headline like "The Rebel Rebels" or even "Scum Rebel Dies Trying to Assassinate our Beloved Leader", but nothing of the sort had appeared, even months after. The Rebels assumed that he flew out of the country right after he freed Malfoy. They called him a coward and a traitor. With this letter, it appeared that Harry was still in Britain and was in fact in contact with their enemy. Had he betrayed them completely? Was he attempting to help them in his own way? There wasn't enough in this letter to determine the answer to these questions.

One thing was clear, however, it was that Harry wasn't dead, and that he wasn't powerless either. And that gave him hope, because if Harry could still kill the Dark Lord, maybe Neville wouldn't have to do it. It was a cowardly way of thinking, but he had never been really brave before either.

The only moment where he stood up for himself was when he had tried to stop Harry and Malfoy from leaving. And he couldn't help but think he chose the worst time possible to step up. Harry's words from that day still rang in his head hours after he left and Neville had concluded that he indeed didn't have all the facts when he took the hasty decision to oppose them. And as to whether Moody was manipulating him, or if he chose to voluntarily believe the man's unrealistic promises of a brighter future, that remained to be seen...

But did he really want to leave the Camp altogether? This was his home, the place where he grew up. He didn't know what to do about the second part of Harry's message.

_In the meanwhile,_ he decided with hope blooming in his chest, _I'll go see my parents._

He knew that they probably wouldn't recognise him, but he needed to see them, to remind himself of the horror he was fighting against. Because as it was, he couldn't exactly say why he was opposing the current regime.

He just felt so tired of it all.

.

o0o0o

That evening, in a deserted warehouse in Liverpool, two twins were standing shock still in front of opened crates.

"What will they be used for?" asked one of them.

A shabbily dressed silhouette stood next to them, a mad eye whizzing about and scrutinising them in detail.

"It doesn't matter what they will be used for, boys. You said you wanted in, you got in the network, now it's time for your contribution," the man growled out.

"But...those...things could really be dangerous..." continued the twin which had spoken up before.

"You said you wanted revenge for your brother's death. This is the way. Unless you prefer to let his soul wander aimlessly on this plane just because you're too scared to avenge his memory?" bit out the scruffy man.

"No, no, we want revenge...it's just that we don't want innocent people to be implicated in anything..." specified the other twin which hadn't spoken up for a while.

"They won't be. They'll be out of the way. Trust me, I don't want civilian deaths any more than you do." added the older man.

The twins exchanged a glance. They weren't sure if they should take his word for it. But what other choice did they have? They had to take concrete steps for a better world. The passive opposition that their peers conducted toward the Dark Lord's regime wasn't enough for them. They wanted to take concrete and active actions against it. They had sought retribution elsewhere. And this is where it had led them: In a warehouse with the very leader of the Rebellion...and crates full of components of Muggle explosives.

They exchanged another glance. They had a bad feeling about this.

.

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Next chapter will be a Dark Lord's POV. And there will be a more serious slash scene.

Thank you in advance for reviewing! :)


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hi everyone! I have sadly noticed a drop in interest in this story, or at least, in the reviews I got for the last chapters. Please know that I read every single review you write and answer them all (or nearly all of them) and that I really appreciate the time you spend to write to me, even if you just send me a few words. It's not because I'm approaching my 30th chapter that I don't need support to keep writing, after all. ^^

With that said, thank you to all my reviewers and here's some slash to pick up your interest again! ;)

To my guest reviewers:

autumngold: Little precision. It's Moody who gave the explosives to the twins and not the opposite. They are supposed to work on them to do something...we don't know what yet! ;)

FanFictionLover: Did you mean that Neville was 'candid'? Was that the word your were looking for? And damn, good thing you don't know my address or I'd be worried with all those threats! :P Don't worry, I do know of the twins' genius. I'd just like to point out that they seem a bit reluctant about their new project, though. Who knows what this will mean for the future of Magical Britain?

guest and Debauchi: Thank you :)

Boblove321: I'd really like you to spray your orange juice again, but I'll admit that you shouldn't kill your laptop in your enthusiasm for this story. So, stay clear of liquids while you read this chapter ;)

On with the show!

Warnings: sexual situation, explicitness, slash

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Chapter 28: 28th of September 1997. Of Frustration and Attraction

The Dark Lord of Britain came out of the first day of the International Confederation of Wizards' meeting itching to curse the rest of its members.

Not only had they dismissed his arguments about nuclear power and bombs, they had also pegged it as a concern of the past and the French Minister had pronounced him "_dépassé_". He wasn't stuck in the past, for Morgana's sake! The threat that had been there before still remained! It wasn't because the Cold War had ended that the bombs suddenly disappeared!

All those preeminent diplomats could talk about was 'The Internet' and 'Computers'. Not that it wasn't such a big concern, he could understand their worries about it, but even if they were discovered through modern information technology, the result still led to the same question of how to defend the Wizarding population against Muggle weapons of mass destruction after their secret is revealed and the repression and fear has escalated enough for the Muggles to take arms. It would just happen through a different channel than what they had feared before.

He Apparated back to his Fortress with a quick twist. When he arrived, he sighed tiredly, rubbing his forehead to calm his raging headache. He had spent far too much effort convincing the rest of the ICW that he wasn't dangerous enough to warrant an intervention after his Victory years ago. Now, they felt like they could disrespect him with impunity. He would have to correct this misunderstanding, particularly with the French Minister. His last torture session had been too far ago and he was starting to feel frustrated. That idiotic perverted librarian who dared touch Harry had been a very unsatisfying kill. He needed more. Perhaps he should unearth those plans for an invasion of France that he had buried after realising that bringing his own country back to its former glory was a priority over world domination...

The sight that greeted him in the entrance parlour of his home interrupted his sadistic thoughts of revenge.

There, lying on his couch and apparently sleeping deeply, was his little Horcrux sweetly and innocently waiting for his return. He felt something in his chest stir at the sight.

_I could get used to that_, he thought, his head cocked to the side, examining Harry closely. The handsome face was lined with worry even in his sleep. He also had dark shadows under his eyes.

_Has he lost some sleep trying to find the truth in the soul mate explanation? Or about this hopeless Duel?_

He knew that Harry hadn't believed him as easily as he would have hoped. It just went to show how perceptive Harry was with him. He had devised the strategy on the spot when Harry had demanded an explanation for why he didn't want to kill him. As he absolutely didn't want to clue Harry in the question of Horcruxes and Soul Magic, he had thought the soul mates myth was a perfect alternative to telling him the truth.

The only problem was that soul mating was a ridiculous notion that supposed a certain degree of pre-ordained Order, which he had always held in contempt. And he had already told as much to Harry before. And he hadn't been able to perform his 'confession' with just the right amount of sappiness either. It had made Harry suspicious.

He also knew that Harry had come worryingly close to discover the truth about it when he searched for Soul Magic. Thankfully, he had instructed Nagini to watch him when he did his research and to intervene should he be heading in the right direction. He had taken to remove every book talking about Horcruxes from the Library and to work in there instead of in his study after this particular near miss.

He didn't regret his decision either, because the familiarity that came with regular contact (even if they just read or worked separately) had eased Harry into the notion of a more stable and peaceful relationship between them.

And it had also led to furthering...interesting developments between the two of them. It would take some time before it reached a satisfying level, but he could wait if it meant that he could slowly but surely corrupt his little Horcrux. The idea that he would be the one to initiate Harry on the subject made his possessive side growl in satisfaction.

The young man was undoubtedly delicious and his innocence on this matter was delectable. He also had just the right amount of instincts to know what to do and how to react. The way their magic mingled together hinted to very pleasant moments in a near future, he was sure of it.

Not to mention that he had never been with anyone whose magic was as powerful as Harry's (there were always security risks to having sex with people of a similar power level to your own...and they tended to be too insufferable to tolerate, and too difficult to get rid off discretely anyway), nor had he ever been with someone who took delight in His magic in particular and could sense it with such intensity.

Therefore, this was a very promising investment of his time.

He scoffed internally when he thought of his initial reservation about pursuing a physical relationship with the young man. Since when did he restrain himself when he saw something he wanted? And Harry, being his Horcrux, was practically made for him! _I have to be careful or I'll sound like I believe in the whole soul mate nonsense too._

There was, however, a small nagging worry at the back of his head about how Harry would react if his little Horcrux discovered that he had lied to him. It would probably be even worse than if he had just refused to answer why he didn't want to kill him, especially if one considered the sexual aspect of their relationship. Harry would probably jump on the conclusion that he had manipulated him and used him for his satisfaction. Which he had, in a way, if he was honest. He just thought it was a fair deal as long as it was mutually satisfying.

Looking at the handsome teenager spread on his couch, the Dark Lord had an idea. He decided to carry the young man to his bed. Last time had resulted in one of the deepest and most relaxing sleep he had in years. The only reason he had let the other go back to his room afterwards was because he knew the teenager wasn't ready for more and he didn't want to put such pressure on him so early. After all, if he messed it up, he'd be stuck with the results for years afterwards.

He bent down, slipped his arms beneath the slumbering teen's head and his knees and lifted him close to his chest, physically carrying him to his bed. He could have done this with magic, of course, but there was a certain satisfaction in being able to carry the other's weight with the strength of your arms. It made you feel manly in a way that waving a piece of wood around would never really satisfy. Voldemort secretly blamed his Muggle upbringing for giving him such strange inclinations.

Harry mumbled in his sleep from being jostled and turned his head around to bury it in the Dark Lord's chest, breathing in his scent and sighing contentedly. It made said Dark Lord smile smugly. Even in his sleep, Harry wanted to get closer to him. It had also happened in the night they shared the bed. He had woken up to find his little Horcrux plastered on his side and halfway lying on him, their legs tangled together and arms around each other. It was incredibly intimate and he hadn't known what to think of it either until he justified it with the Horcrux's pull for its 'mother soul'. It also explained why he thought that Harry's presence at his side made his temper milder than usual. The Horcrux stabilised his soul parts.

But no matter. If he woke up so close to the other boy again, he'd face the questions with his soul mate excuse.

The door of his rooms opened automatically at his approach. He got in and carefully lowered his precious load on the bed. The young man immediately frowned at the loss of contact. Voldemort undressed with a quick spell (another thing he preferred to do manually usually) and prepared for bed in efficient movements. Harry's hand had started to explore the bed around him in his sleep, probably trying to find him there. It was disgustingly endearing.

He slipped under the covers, manoeuvring his little Horcrux to bring him close against his chest. Harry's head found its way to the crook of his shoulder and rubbed delightfully against its new pillow, breathing him in deeply and sighting contentedly.

_I think I'm starting to get slightly too attached to this young man_, he thought with his own sigh. _That's another first..._His thought drifted off as he fell asleep quicker than usual.

.

o0o0o

The next day, he felt himself awaken by a sense of discomfort. He quickly took stock of the situation. He was on his side, his arms were tightly wrapped around someone and he was apparently in the process of rubbing his morning wood against a delightfully firm and fleshy backside. Ah, the discomfort wasn't coming from him, but from the owner of the backside in question. He supposed he should feel embarrassed, but he wasn't one for such feelings and it felt too good for him to bother. And Harry thought he was asleep so might as well enjoy it while it lasted. He might not get another opportunity like that for a while.

He slowly extricated an arm from where it was tangled with Harry's and imitated the clumsy movements of slumber when he skilfully moved it downwards to rest against the young man's arousal. _Hum, delightful_, he thought with satisfaction at what he found there.

Harry released a strangled gasp at the contact, as if he didn't want to risk waking him up. He felt guilt and excitement mixed together sent to him by their soul link. _Interesting, so he's only ill at ease because he thinks I'm asleep and he's taking advantage of it without waking me up...Good, let's see up to where I can take this._

He thrust lightly against the younger man's backside, pulling him closer to him with an arm and pressing against Harry's arousal with the other in the same movement. His little Horcrux automatically answered the movement by grinding against his lap. _Such beautiful instincts you have for this, my Harry._

He nuzzled the younger man's hair and buried his head in the neck bared to him. The young man gasped audibly this time and arched against him. He brushed against the other's arousal again, this time sending a bit of magic in his hand and heard a deliciously wanton moan come from the young man's chest. He sighed, letting his breath wash over the soft expanse of flesh offered to him.

Harry shivered violently. _Hmm, I couldn't have slept through that, no matter how exhausted I was._

He decided to 'wake up'. His possibilities while staying convincingly asleep were quite limited, after all.

He slipped the hand that was on the other's arousal up under the young man's shirt and caressed lazily the bare flesh he found there. He hummed against the other's neck and started to press a few open-mouthed kisses against it. He wouldn't act like an embarrassed virgin. He knew that even if he had woken up buried balls deep within the other's body, he would have just continued on with it and not pulled away in offense. If someone he chose as a bed mate wanted to offer him their body first thing in the morning and give him a nice surprise to start the day in a good way, why would he refuse, after all?

But Harry hadn't exactly offered. He had just passively let himself be molested. He hadn't even chosen to share the bed with him.

The Dark Lord sighed again and decided to lift his head and open his eyes to check on the emotional state of his little Horcrux.

His eyes met bottomless wells of green that were looking at him uncertainly. _Better than anger, at least._ He propped himself up on an elbow and brought his other hand to caress Harry's face.

"Good morning," he said smoothly, his voice rougher than usual because he had just woken up and was very much aroused. He tried not to think about the firm butt against which said arousal was still pressed.

Harry's eyes widened impossibly more in surprise before his body relaxed in relief. He had probably been worried of his reaction.

"Good morning" answered Harry in a low voice, before clearing his throat noisily. "Hum, er, could you, maybe, let me go for a bit?"

_There you go. I knew I went too far too fast. I just hope he won't be traumatised for too long._

He sighed, withdrawing slightly, thinking that the other would just bolt away as fast as he could. He let himself fall back on the bed and covered his face with an arm, exhaling slowly to calm his arousal. The sounds of flight he expected to hear didn't come. He lifted his arm off and turned to where the boy had been. He was still there, lips pursed and looking at him hesitantly, but without looking particularly afraid. _Well, at least there's that._

"I need to go to the toilet...can I go here or do you want me to go back to my rooms, or so?" he said, his face reddening slightly.

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow.

"I think that after waking up like you did, you have earned the right to use my bathroom."

Harry blushed in earnest at being reminded of that moment. He hesitated again, looking around.

"So...which door?" he asked.

_Ah, of course, he has never really been here before._

He pointed to the one on the left and said: "That's the exit", to the one on the wall facing his bed and slightly to the right: "My study." and he finished with the one on his right closest to him: "And that's the bathroom."

He watched Harry climb off the bed and shuffle clumsily to the bathroom while 'subtly' trying to shield his arousal from view. Voldemort didn't even try to hide his amusement at the failed attempt.

He lied back against the bed's abundant fluffy pillows, his hands folded behind his neck in a posture of confident relaxation. He looked at the ceiling, thinking about the second session of the ICW meeting that would take place that evening...

.

o0o0o

When he heard the door of the bathroom open, he turned to see Harry exit it. The young man was staring at him with a determined look on his face. The Dark Lord frowned.

_Which decision could he possibly have made so early in the morning?_

His question was answered quite rapidly when Harry, instead of paying him a hasty good-bye or, at most, circling back around the bed to go sit on its edge as he imagined the other would do, just climbed on top of him and sat on his lap. Just like that. The Dark Lord felt his eyebrows lift on his forehead at the young man's boldness.

Everybody who had tried to take such liberty with him in bed without his explicit consent were usually punished severely, or at least shown the door. But this was Harry we were talking about. The boy was anything but submissive.

Normally, at this point, it would start to annoy him, but he was usually annoyed at his past lovers because they were only pretending to not be afraid of him. In reality, the minute he'd raise his voice or be a bit curt with them they'd shy away or start begging for mercy as quickly as they could.

_No wonder I never kept them for long!_ He thought distractedly when he felt Harry's lips passionately devour his and the younger man's legs tighten around his hips.

He pushed the covers away, not liking the additional barrier between them and pressed hastily Harry back on him. The arousal that hadn't left him for long flared back to life when he felt the other's warmth seeping through the thin layers of their pyjamas. _Enough dallying_, he thought firmly as he gripped the bottom of Harry's shirt and lifted it off the boy who let him proceed without a sound of protest. The delicious sight of Harry's finely muscled torso greeted him finally. _At last_, he thought as he brought his mouth to the other's nipple and started sucking and nibbling it. Harry arched up against him at the new strange feeling. Voldemort's hands slid to the other's hips and grinded them against his arousal rhythmically. The boy was making delicious sounds above him, gasping here, moaning there, and panting desperately in between. _So far, so good_, he thought, wondering if he could introduce a more...satisfying aspect to this mindless dry humping.

He slowly slid one hand off Harry hip and trailed it idly along the inside of the young man's thigh. An eager grind against his arousal answered his movement. He took it as an authorisation to continue. When the circling of his hand encountered Harry's hardness the first time, he feigned an accident. The young man gasped loudly at the contact, but relaxed when he concluded it wasn't made on purpose.

_I never do anything without a purpose, Harry; you'll have to learn that sooner or later._

When he made a second pass at the manoeuvre, his little Horcrux gasped again, but softly this time, with an eager undertone to it. He decided to make his move in the third pass up the other's thigh. He boldly ran the backside of his hand along the hardness and felt Harry shiver and press himself against his hand in answer.

_Ah, my sweet Harry, so eager for my attention._

He unlatched his mouth from the now hard pebbled nipples on the other's chest and angled his head up to look at his little Horcrux. The latter, when he saw that the Dark Lord was looking at him, blushed a delicate shade of pink and smiled at him slightly before attacking his lips again, both of his hands cupping the side of the older man's neck and playing with the small hair at the nape of his neck.

He dipped his hand inside the young man's pyjama, closed his hand around Harry's arousal and pumped it once. He felt the young man moan in his mouth and grind his behind in the Dark Lord's lap. The magic was pulsing around them; swaddling them in warmth and making them both feel electrified and dizzy.

As they continued to grind against each other, the Dark Lord suddenly felt something tugging at his magic sharply, pulling it away. When he closed his eyes and searched his magic in slight panic, he discovered that their soul link was wide open and, for a moment, he could feel more than an echo of what Harry was living: he could feel himself transported in the body of the younger man writhing above him. He could sense his own hand touching the other's arousal from both perspectives at the same time. He could get the sensorial stimulation from them both at the same time, and it worried him as much as it aroused him.

He thought distractedly that it must be what possession felt like, but he hadn't done anything to cause that.

As he felt Harry's climax come close, both from his own detached analysis of the young man's shallow breathing and erratic movements and from _feeling_ _it_ in Harry's body as if it was his own, he was pulled back painfully to his body as a climax was wrenched out of him by his Horcrux's orgasm.

He opened his eyes, staring hungrily at Harry's face scrunching up in sweet pain as he came, his eyes closed tightly, head thrown back in passion, frowning at the moment's intensity.

When he came back down to earth, Harry bent his neck and leaned his head on his lover's shoulder. The Dark Lord's arms came up lazily to surround the other, pressing the latter's slightly sweaty body against his. They panted in unison, trying to catch their breath, feeling the satisfaction fill them and calm them down, their magic wafting lightly around them.

_Sweet Morgana and the gods above, that was disturbingly delicious._

He had never felt anything quite like it. It was as if he had temporarily occupied two bodies at the same time. He was flabbergasted by the experience.

He was still staring blankly in front of him, eyes wide open and unseeing as he puzzled over what had happened when he felt Harry straighten back up and detail his expression.

"I'm guessing this wasn't a normal occurrence," stated Harry in a firm voice.

He forced himself to turn his gaze to the younger man who was watching him closely. He swallowed, trying to give himself time to find a possible excuse, but he came up short. For one of the first times in his life, his genius brain and devious imagination failed him. He could only shake his head.

"I'm not sure of what happened, but no, it wasn't normal." He started to caress the skin of Harry's back in small circles. Harry closed his eyes and shivered slightly, inhaling deeply. His intense reaction made the Dark Lord's lips stretch in a small amused smirk.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was still serious and determined to have an answer, but something seemed to have softened in his gaze.

"How did it feel, for you? I mean, I barely even touched you..." His pursed his lips, as if he felt displeased of not having given him an equal share of attention and was resolute that such an injustice never happened again.

The Dark Lord snorted. Harry didn't need to worry about it. While he wasn't a selfish lover (not as much as most expected him to be, at least), he'd never let a sexual encounter end before he felt satisfied by it. Looking at the teen still sitting on his lap, he decided, for once in his life, to be completely honest about what happened. It was too strange to lie about it.

"I felt everything as if I was in your body, getting the same stimulation you got, on top of feeling the effect of your...enthusiastic movements in my own body. I have never felt anything like it before."

He saw Harry's eyebrows lift up in surprise first before frowning and narrowing his eyes in his direction.

"It was you that I felt? You were in me? I could kind of feel a weird invasion, but it didn't feel like Legilimency, so I let it pass, thinking it was your magic doing wonky stuff again." He paused slightly, looking at him in question. "Do you know how this happened?

-As much as it pains me to admit it, I had no idea this would happen and only have but theories at this point as to why it did. I would guess that it has something to do with the special connection we share.

-The soul mate bond, you mean?" Answered Harry, one eyebrow lifted in question.

He hummed what could be taken as a confirmation. All right, maybe he wouldn't be completely honest if Harry started asking about delicate questions that relied on lies he told previously. He turned his eyes on Harry's naked torso in front of him and started grazing it with the back of his hand. The skin was so soft and flawless.

He had a fixation on smooth skin, he knew. It was rather recent. It dated back from his resurrection, in fact. He had looked down at his new body with its human baby soft skin, remembering the scales he previously sported in disgust and had sworn to himself that he would never let himself go back to that state. Since then, he had become slightly obsessed with observing his lovers' skin and testing how smooth it was. It seemed to him that Harry's was the smoothest he ever touched. Perhaps because he was the youngest lover he had taken since then as well.

He felt Harry's head lean back on his shoulder and the young man's hand tentatively return his touch, brushing deliciously against his skin, reminding him that he didn't have scales and that he wasn't bald anymore. He had hair: glorious, long, silken, dark hair. It was shallow and narcissistic of him to care about such trifling details, he knew. But he let himself indulge in the harmless sin.

He exhaled in contentment. He had missed this time of peacefulness that sometimes accompanied sexual satisfaction. In the past months, he had become unusually dissatisfied with his previous lovers, being more violent with them and dismissing them one after the other after a shorter time than normal. They didn't seem to satisfy him anymore and he sometimes felt restless, jittery, even. When Harry crashed into his life, he had quickly thrown away his latest conquest, obsessed that he was with the young man's presence. He couldn't say that he regretted it; even if took some time to reach this point. Part of the pleasure was in the chase, after all, as he had told Harry not so long ago.

His thoughts were interrupted by Harry's growling stomach. He chuckled at the young man who was looking at him a bit sheepishly.

They would go have breakfast and then he would need to work on his second presentation for the ICW meeting that night. He would have liked to leave the other dignitaries rot in their ignorance about bombs and missiles, but he had to at least attempt to teach them some of the information control techniques and wards he had developed. And he would also promote the extraction of Muggleborns from their families, or at least plead for a generalised oath of secret physically preventing them from talking about magic to anybody outside of the direct family. The subject was too important to withhold information only because he was still bitter about the previous day's frustrating meeting.

.

o0o0o

All throughout breakfast, Harry was in an exceptionally good mood, always sending him small smiles and eating with enthusiasm. The young man didn't bother him too much when he saw that he was distracted, however.

It made him particularly pleased because, if there was one thing that had always made him lose his patience with his previous lovers, it was their inability to shut their mouth and appreciate the silence when the Supreme Leader of the British Wizarding World was obviously thinking about important matters.

That was one of the reasons why he usually sent them back home to sleep instead of keeping them in his bed for the night. He was too busy and had other priorities than accommodating them when they felt awkward if they didn't do small talk at the breakfast table.

But Harry was lost in his own thoughts and didn't seem to mind the silence. He let himself exhale in relief silently. For him, it only confirmed that he had taken the right decision in pursuing a physical relationship with his Horcrux, despite that morning's strange occurrence.

Now, back to the question of how to put the French Minister in his place...

.

* * *

I hope this clarified a few things. I really like this chapter :)

Tell me how you found it! Thanks in advance for the reviews! :)


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! So, you are still enthusiastic about this story, then? Yay! Thanks for letting me know! :D

Boblove321: ahhh, no spraying this time? Did you really read it 6 times? Wow, that's a nice compliment for my writing :)

autumngold: no problem. It's normal to misread stuff from time to time. That's why I'm here to answer the questions, right? ^^

FanFictionLover: Who said Voldemort hasn't tortured him before he killed him? It just wasn't important enough to warrant a detailed gory scene...not to mention that I don't have the stomach to write torture scenes. That's part of why I can't read abused!Harry fics either. The abuse is wayyy too graphic for my taste sometimes. And I agree with you. The canon Potterverse wouldn't have lasted very long. I have a plot-bunny for a story based on that assumption, by the way. I'm not sure I'll write it, but I've recently had this really cool idea for a good twist on a time-travel story, so perhaps I'll exploit both in my next story ;) Would you read it if there wasn't any slash in it though? :P

One last thing, I hadn't planned on including the French Minister in the rest of the story, but since so many people asked me what will happen to him, I have decided to add his fate to the plot :P You'll see!

Nowwww, readers. Please make sure you have enough time to read this chapter because it's quite long and if you read it in small shots if won't have as much impact. I'm looking forward to see how you will like it! Let me know! :)

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Chapter 29: 31st of October 1997, Part One: Revelations

A month had passed since I woke up next to the Dark Lord for the first time and I had yet to be sent back to my own bedroom to sleep. In that time, I was blissfully introduced to a whole new world of sensations and sensuality. We had worked on the strange connection between us and discovered that we could, to a certain extent at least, tone it down with Occlumency. I often failed to keep my shields up the whole time, though. I blame his talented hands and mouth for distracting me...

The Dark Lord had been right, I would never want another man than him in my whole life. I hadn't before and I wouldn't now either. I could feel it every time he touched me, with every brushes of his lips, every gasp he coaxed out of me, every passionate embrace...

We hadn't done 'it' yet, but with everything that we had done so far, I don't think I could still count as innocent by anyone's standards.

My relationship with the Dark Lord, if you could call it like that, was going well. I had never been with anyone else before, but I'd say that, apart from the normal little problems that every couple probably had, it was definitely looking promising.

We mostly got into debates (with barely any shouting, I swear!) when I didn't want to behave like a mindless minion. The...exchanges inevitably ended with me pressed against the first flat surface he could find and having my clothes ripped away from my body. Seriously, it probably turned him on to have somebody who shouted back at him instead of cowering in fright. That's the impression it gave me when I'd see the lust burning brightly in his eyes every time I shot him a witty comeback.

At this point, I had more or less accepted the Dark Lord's explanation of our strange connection. There wasn't anything else it could be, really. And well, soul mates guaranteed that I wouldn't get discarded quickly when he'd got his fill, so it did wonders for my self-doubt.

I was beginning to trust him even more. After all, he had welcomed me in his house and in his bed and was sleeping next to me without as much as a second thought for his safety (that I could see anyway), even if I was supposed to be his enemy.

He hadn't mentioned the Duel again and I knew that, theoretically, we were supposed to fight it after I was done with my OWLs and NEWTs, but I think it was just an excuse he devised to delay the moment and give me a chance to back out.

And forfeit, as it so happened, looked more promising every day. What could he possibly ask for anyway? I didn't even have access to my vaults when I issued the Duel, so he couldn't ask for any money outside of the ridiculously small pile of gold rotting away in its big cave in Gringotts and the few coins that remained in my money purse. For what else could he ask? My body? I was already involved with him and would probably have already had sex with him if the man weren't strangely reluctant to actually cross this line. That last issue was actually worrying me a bit. Why wouldn't he want to have sex with me? He seemed to want me, that was clear in the way he acted, but he'd always stop himself right before. I did ask him why and he said he wanted to wait 'for the right moment'. Whatever that meant.

I just hoped the right moment wasn't when I had forfeited to him and he would start to maniacally laugh and reveal to me that it was his plan from the beginning and that now I'd be his sex slave for the rest of my life...or any other equivalently horrible scenarios.

But I was less and less afraid of those as time passed. One didn't make elaborate plans spreading out through months when he could have easily seduced me in two weeks or so. It simply didn't make any sense.

He seemed to be hesitating to reveal me something, though. That's all I knew.

In the meanwhile, all I could say was that I was settling down in our routine pretty peacefully. I still trained everyday or so, but without the same...determination and anger I had before. When I thought of not having to fight the Dark Lord, it felt like a huge weight that had been pressing down on me all my life had just been lifted from my shoulders. I felt light, nearly giddy.

.

Not everything was going so well, though. After my hasty departure, the Rebels had upped the amount of raids and their exposure to the world. It felt to me as if they were giving a big last push. From what I knew of their capacity, they wouldn't be able to last thing long at this rate.

Some new people had joined them in the past few months, like this mysterious new ally who could control House-Elves. She hadn't done anything else since Draco's kidnapping, however, so she had been temporarily declared as inactive, or as a 'one-shot ally'. There hadn't been any House-Elves in raids, but many Purebloods who heard of what had happened to the Malfoys decided to either strengthen their wards even more and add precautions against House-Elves magic, or give them explicit orders against any type of betrayal they could ever think of. A lot of them had also pleaded the Dark Lord to give them the 'recipe' for the curse he employed. As it had the unpleasant side effect of making them more ugly than they had previously been and rendering them, for all intent and purpose, mute, most just went back home disappointed at the news and resolved to discipline or curse their House-Elves by themselves. The amount of elven deaths in the past months had grown exponentially and dramatically and, sadly for them, they couldn't even leave the service of those who had killed their brothers or parents in their quest for the perfect curse to make them even more servile than they already were. If I were them, I'd think twice before trusting this 'Onniny' again. She didn't seem to be there right now, supporting them and helping them get away from their families, after all.

When I'd asked Voldemort what he thought of the situation with the House-Elves, he had replied:

"While it is regrettable that so many good servants are killed or maimed so uselessly, I do understand the fear that motivates their owners. Some of those Elves have been there, in their home, for generations. They know everything that has happened in the house that they served for the past fifty years or more. Some of them had been entrusted the care of the family heirs when they grew up; they had access to every room and every Galleon their family owned; they were trusted blindly and doubtlessly and now, that trust is shattered. The system can't stay as it used to be without a period of recuperation, of adaptation. Both the masters and the servants have to revaluate the situation and reach the appropriate conclusions. In the meanwhile, it's the servants who pay the price for the betrayal committed by one of them. Lucius' traitorous House-Elf is responsible for the massacre of its brethren: it, and its contact in the Rebels, this supposedly 'friend of the House-Elves'. She singlehandedly harmed their cause more than anybody else had ever had."

I pondered how I would feel if someone I trusted had betrayed me like that. It had already happened a couple of times when I was at the Rebel's camp, at a smaller scale: Sirius' neglect to talk to me about my Hogwarts letter, the Rebels' lie about Tonks' death, Moody's repeated manipulations. I was seriously glad that time was all behind me. Here, the Dark Lord hid some things from me, but at least I thought I could trust him not to lie to me about important questions.

.

I was wrong, of course, as I discovered on the night of the Samhain.

o0o0o

Back at the camp, on that holy day, we had lit up a few candles in honour of the dead and we had addressed short prayers to those we knew that had passed away. When Sirius was there, we had prayed for my parents' soul to return to Magic and find peace together in the great continuum. It was the British's interpretation of what happened in the afterlife according to what Necromancers and Mystics have been able to determine throughout the centuries.

Apparently, there were three phases when you died. The first one was theoretically quite short and was called 'the Ascension': immediately after your death, your soul supposedly would lift out of your body and you could see yourself lying there, immobile, and the reaction of those close to you. It sounded a bit horrible, really, but one consequence of this was that most wanted to have people surrounding them at their death. Dying and seeing your body all alone lying there, without anybody to mourn it or be sad that you were gone was one of the most wide-spread fears of the Wizarding World and one of the only reasons why we didn't take well to be hermits and recluses. Despite the...originality and plain weirdness of certain elements of this society, they always had at least one person to turn to in their lives, one person with which they could share their solitude. The Dark Lord had told me once that Severus Snape was quite the isolated man, and that he thought the Potions Master had chosen Hogwarts instead of a private lab because of this fear. It is said that those who die alone have more chance of ending up as ghosts.

Ghosts are the only ones who didn't pass to the second phase, which was, depending on your interpretation, a phase of sort of waiting/judgment/torment/reunion with others souls that you knew. Some thought that it was a relaxing time where you could ponder the accomplishments and failures of your life, others said it was like a gossip room with everybody talking about what they learnt in their lives, and what else had happened down there. Others thought that you met some sort of guide who would explain to you what happened to get you killed, or where you were heading. Anyway, it's not really certain as the souls the Necromancers did manage to contact all had different versions. The guide one was pretty popular though and people had taken to honour great symbols in their life by telling them that they hoped those mentors would be their guides in their afterlife.

The third phase, nobody knew what it consisted of. It was globally recognised that there was a third phase, and the British's general belief was that the souls joined with the great continuum of Magic to eventually be reborn as a new children of Magic. Purebloods, in particular, tended to believe that because at least it guaranteed them that they wouldn't return as Muggles or common animals. Sirius, for all his Gryffindorness and his rejection of most Pureblood customs, had agreed with that belief and brought me up as such to a certain extent.

Now that he was dead, and that my life had changed so drastically, I wasn't sure if he would welcome my prayer to his soul at all. My dead parents, if they hadn't 'carried on' yet were probably just as ashamed of the choices I had made in life. After all, between rebelling against people who didn't share your values and literally sleeping with their murderer...there was quite a gap.

It was, therefore, with much apprehension that I considered tonight's ceremony.

The Dark Lord had planned it all. It would be the night I was introduced to Wizarding society. I was quite nervous about that as well. I didn't know how they would react to me.

Draco had helped me by breaking the misconception I had about my reputation. Apparently, the 'Boy Who Betrayed Us All' nickname hadn't stuck, despite what the Rebels had told me. I was seen as an icon of the Light and a hope for all those who didn't like the current regime. I guess it would have been easier for me to run away from the Rebels if I thought I'd be welcomed by the outside world...

So, anyway, I knew what the Dark Lord was all about with his little 'introduction to society'. He just wanted to parade another chapter of his Victory for everyone to see. I only let him go with it because I too wanted to break the myth about the supposed 'light' I would bring to the Wizarding World...

.

o0o0o

It was late afternoon, and the Dark Lord had the worst idea of his life, in my opinion. He decided, at the last minute, to give me a crash course on ballroom dancing and pulled me to a big room I had never seen before with walls covered of mirrors. Bad, bad idea.

Nagini thought it was hilarious. She was there in the corner, shooting her little comments every time I did a mistake and rolling herself on the floor laughing at my misery. I had trouble containing myself and not shouting at her in retaliation.

"Why would I want to dance in front of all those people anyway? It's Samhain, not Yule, for Magic's sake! " I said in an exasperated voice after yet another failed attempt. I was 'this' close to take out the whining card to annoy him.

As it was, I was already frustrating him a bit.

"Because, Harry, there will be a ball after the ceremony and people are going to ask you to dance," said the Dark Lord in a strained voice.

"Who would ask me anyway? I won't know anybody there."

He sighed.

"I could ask you..."

I lifted an eyebrow at him. It was one thing to accompany him there, and another completely to dance with him as well. That would give people the idea that I was his lover quite plainly. Something he had never done before with anyone else.

"Are you sure you want to plaster our connection in front of the society? I thought you said you were afraid of them targeting me to get to you..."

Not to mention that I didn't want to face the onslaught of Howlers sent in protest of this choice, but it did make me feel better about the status of our relationship if he was ready to announce it to the world. It meant that I wasn't that temporary.

He looked at me attentively, pausing our whirling.

"Harry, I won't announce the soul mating bond, but I would like for the population to get a hint that I have chosen someone to be at my side."

I felt my heart warm at his word and a small pleased smile stretch my lips. I was about to answer, but Nagini beat me to it.

_§ Soul mate, soul mate, you haven't even mated with him yet! What holds you back from claiming him properly! You can't make hatchlings without mating! § _

The Dark Lord turned to answer her.

_Thank you, Nagini, for asking what I had wondered too. Well, I didn't wonder about the hatchling part, only about the mating part..._I thought, curious to see the Dark Lord's answer.

_§ Nagini, I won't be making hatchlings any time soon, if ever. You should get that idea out of your head. §_

_§ But, Master, before, you were telling me that you just hadn't found the right mate for it, but this one is your soul mate, shouldn't he be perfect for making little hatchlings and populating your empty nest? §_

I nearly laughed at the Dark Lord's predicament. He dropped his arms from around me and turned to face her in frustration. It was one thing for me to bear Nagini's babbling about babies when she didn't expect an answer, but it was a new world of annoying when she actually nagged him for something.

_§ It's still too early and stop calling him that. I thought you understood when I told to you that soul mates didn't exist. §_

I barely stopped myself from gasping out loud by smacking a hand on top of my mouth.

_What? _

I could feel my blood pounding in my ears and I held my breath.

_§ I know you said that but I don't really understand why you continue to lie to him about it. Why don't you just tell him that he's your... § _

I interrupted her involuntarily by gulping in a large breath of air. My hand lowered to my throat as I felt it close. It was as if I was being strangled and my heart was wrenched from my body. I bent in half, gasping and backing away from the Dark Lord and his familiar of a few steps.

_I didn't think it would hurt this much when he betrayed me. I thought I had protected my heart enough for this moment._

I saw the Dark Lord turn to look at me and frown uncomprehendingly. He took a step toward me, his hand stretched to reach me, the perfect picture of concern. I shook my head violently and he let his hand drop.

_He's acting; he's always been acting. Why was he even doing that? Was he planning on humiliating me tonight at the ball? Was he making me believe we'd go there to come out as a couple and in fact gathering an attentive crowd for our Duel? To throw me off-balance; to humiliate me in front of all of them; to show them how easy I was to manipulate._

I felt myself become completely red.

_Oh gods, I can't believe I did all that stuff with him...I'm so easy. He was probably laughing inside when I was spreading my legs wide for him. He'll probably tell everyone how eager I was and how he didn't want to sully himself with me..._

I took another step backwards. I felt my eyes water despite myself.

_No! No! Don't give him the satisfaction to see how hurt you are! Turn all of that into anger! Take it all on him! Force him to duel you now! _

I took out my wand, sending a Disarming spell at him. He batted it away with his hand. He hadn't even taken out his wand yet.

"Harry, what are you doing? What's happening to you?" he asked, disbelief and a bit of anger in his voice.

_The spell wasn't strong enough._ I thought a bit hysterically, sending him a Bone-shattering curse.

It missed. He had slightly stepped to the side. Now he looked really angry. Good. He took out his wand. Maybe he'd set that Duel now if he were angry enough. I aimed Cutting hex at his stomach and a Bludgeoning charm at his head. He blocked them easily.

"Harry, by Morgana! Explain yourself right now!"

I paused, letting my eyes slide to Nagini and back to him. I didn't say anything. I didn't trust my voice not to waver. My throat still felt too constricted to let any sound pass.

"What about Nagi..." He stopped himself, looking surprised. _§ You understand Parseltongue? §_

I nodded. There was no point denying it now.

"Harry, let me explain, I didn't mean it like that..."

_Like what? Let me guess, we're soul mates, but not of each other? What lie will you come up with now, oh so terrible Dark Lord?_

I shook my head again at him and send more curses in his direction. I didn't care which, as long as they hurt. Sadly, he blocked them again.

_I guess Dark curses don't work well with Dark Lords. They are members of the same family, after all, why would they attack each other? Draco said family is important in time of crisis, after all...I wonder if Draco will be sad if I die today? Maybe he'll be sad that I'm dying now and not in front of a crowd. I wonder if someone will mourn my death. With my luck, I'll probably be stuck as a ghost, condemned to follow the Dark Lord around and see him take lover after lover and laugh at my memory. Maybe we could have ghost sex if I kill him at the same time._

I laughed a bit hysterically, throwing spells left and right. Half of them were wide shots. I couldn't see well at the moment.

_Maybe that Potion I took years ago to fix my eyesight stopped working now. It would be ironic. I took that Potion to help me kill the Dark Lord, and now, in the final battle, it would fail me._

A red spell flew toward me. _Disarming _spell, a voice whispered in my ear. I reflectively set up a shield. The spell crashed on it resoundingly. The force of the impact made me take a step back. I was in a daze. I put a hand on my face, trying to rub my eyes to make the blurriness go away. My cheeks were wet. I took the hand away from my face, looking at it. It was water.

_Why am I crying? I'm angry, not sad. I had expected this would happen. They all used me and betrayed me, after all._

I distractedly stepped out of range of another spell. _Binding charm, _whispered the same voice.

_Nobody had been that nice with me, except the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord, with his handsome face and strong body. The Dark Lord, with all his might and power. The Dark Lord, against which I was fighting now...Why hadn't I received more spells from him? Why wasn't I moving now? Was I paralysed?_

I twitched, something made a strangled sound.

_What? Where did that sound come from?_

I blinked around, looking confusedly at my surroundings.

_Why were there so many mirrors around?_

I caught my reflection in one of them. I looked weird, as if I had taken Muggle drugs. I walked to it, extending my left hand to touch the image it sent.

_It's probably lying. We are in the Dark Lord's Fortress: even mirrors are evil here. But his pillows are fluffy. That's all I have discovered in the past two months living with him. Neville would probably have done a better job than me here. Maybe if I were him, He would have wanted me. _

The eyes in the mirror watered.

_No, stupid mirror, you're wrong! I'm not crying! Stupid, stupid mirror._

I fell on my knees, facing the mirrors.

_Maybe if I die in front of the mirror, it will count as if someone is mourning my death? Where is the Dark Lord, by the way? Why am I not I dead yet?_

I looked around again and jolted when I saw him kneeling at my right. I cocked my head to the side.

_How did he appear there? Could he Apparate inside of his Manor? That was certainly something useful to do in a Duel. _

I turned back to my reflection in the mirror. I felt boneless and tired.

_I know a lot of things that would be useful in a Duel. Why am I not I doing them now? I was always told I'd get killed instantly if I didn't do them. Move constantly, scan your surroundings for hidden threats, conserve your magic, be efficient in your movements and in your spells. Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate even if he's kneeling at your feet begging you to spare him. Happy tenth birthday, Harry. Here's a big sharp knife. It's for the monster you'll slay when you're older. No, not the one hiding under your bed. The one with a nice smile and a beautiful face, the one with strong hands and soft lips, the one with ruby-red eyes that just looked at you so warmly...Your eyes are red today, Harry, are you becoming like him? Has he tainted you? Have you become a monster too, Prongslet? How could you let him do that, Prongslet? What would your parents say, Prongslet?_ _Prongslet? Prongslet? You should wake up, we have a big day ahead of us! _

"What, is it my birthday again?" I whispered through the knot in my throat.

_No, Prongslet! It's the day you die! Everybody here is so proud of you! It's the __achievement of a lifetime, being killed by a Dark Lord! I tried, but I had to settle for second best and take the magical artefact. I thought you'd understand._

"No, no, I don't understand...why did you leave me? I needed you. Why was a stupid artefact more important than me? Was it because I wasn't good enough? Was it because I couldn't hate the Dark Lord enough? Why? Answer me!" I shouted, hitting the mirror repeatedly with my palm.

"Why! What was I to you? Just a tool? All my life? Everybody around me? Was I just a tool for all of you? The Dark Lord doesn't even believe in the Prophecy! Why did you? Why did you ruin my life for it? Why did you let me cry alone in my bedroom after you told of my stupid Destiny? Why didn't you enter my room? I knew you were standing outside of it! I could feel you there! Why didn't you take me in your arms? Why did you wait until you were dying to tell me that you loved me? Did you even mean it? Why did you need a Dark Lord to tell you how to say goodbye to me? Did he tell you to go get me from the Dursley too? Would you have let me in my cupboard if it weren't from him? From the Prophecy?" I gulped in some air, feeling breathless.

"Why did we have to stay at this shitty camp with that mad Moody? He's insane, Sirius! How could you not have seen it! Why didn't you take me away? We could have gone to France, to Australia! I saw on my Gringotts statement that you had villas there. Why didn't we just leave everything behind and go? Why...why not? Why not? We had everything before us, now you're dead and I'm alone. Look at me; I'm a wreck. I'm even worse that he is" I said, waving my hand in the direction of the Dark Lord.

My attention was caught by something and my eyes strayed on his face slowly. His brows were furrowed and he was looking closely at me. Even now, he was so handsome, with his magic that made my blood sing. His eyes were the purest of rubies, or was it garnets? I lifted my right hand, something fell out of it but it didn't matter, I pressed it against his cheek. It was so soft and warm. I rubbed my thumb over his cheekbone. He took my hand in his, caressed it a bit as well.

"Harry," he said with a soothing, careful voice. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth, but I swear to you I didn't do it to hurt you. I would have told you soon...

-_Are you..._going to kill me now?" I asked with a strangled voice.

"No, Harry, I don't want to kill you. You are precious to me. I didn't lie about that. It's just our connection that is a bit different. Our souls are linked because sixteen years ago, on this very date..."

I waved his explanation off tiredly. I didn't want any other esoteric invention.

"You don't have to put that much effort in lying to me. The Rebels didn't and it worked well for them for a long time...

-Harry, look at me." I turned back at him again. He was still watching at me with that soft look in his eyes. He looked very serious, though. Where was all his normal teasing gone?

"Harry, I swear on my magic that what I will tell you in the next five minutes is the truth." I felt my eyes widen. Swearing on your magic was dangerous; you'd be nothing more than a Muggle if you didn't respect your oath. He was the Dark Lord, he loved magic; how could he swear on it?

I shook my head at him.

"Don't loose your magic for me. It's too beautiful to be wasted so uselessly."

"Harry, I care about you. We have a real connection between our souls. We are not soul mates, but something happened in the night where I tried to kill you years ago and I think that a part of my soul embedded itself in you. It's in your scar. My Horcrux."

I felt my tongue trip as I tried to repeat the foreign word.

_Did he just say that there was a part of his soul inside my forehead?_ I felt shivers of disgust wrack my body. _What sort of monster has he turned me into?_

I tore my hand out of his and started to claw at my forehead.

"Get it out! Get it out! It's not supposed to be there!" I shouted frantically.

The Dark Lord gripped my hands tightly with his and pulled them down from my face. I fought against him, but I felt so weak. Which spells had I shot him to feel so drained? He encircled me in his arms. I struggled against his grip, hitting him with my fists but he didn't budge. I heard a whimper. I realised that they were coming from me. He made a shushing sound that was strangely reassuring. His magic wrapped around me, swaddling me. I felt warm and comfortable. The weak tremors that had shaken my body since my speech to the mirror calmed down at last. I settled against him, my head resting against his shoulder, breathing his scent in. He rubbed a hand in circles around my back and another up and down my arm.

.

o0o0o

After a while, I felt the fog in my head clear out. I couldn't really remember what had just happened. I thought about it, breathing deeply in and out to center myself.

_What the effing heck had just happened? Why did I do all that? _

I asked as much to the Dark Lord. He laughed. He _laughed_. As if I hadn't aimed who knows how many deathly curses at his head. As if I hadn't gone completely barmy on him. I shook my head. I didn't understand.

"I believe that, were you a Muggle, this could be called a psychotic break, Harry. Mind Healing is more abstract and uncertain, however. Even the fact that day is Samhain could be a factor in your...slightly violent episode."

I snorted.

"You can say that again." I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. "Couldn't this have all be avoided if you had just tell me the truth about our connection? You made me paranoid for months! I knew there was something wrong with the whole soul mate scenario."

The Dark Lord sighed.

" I know, it's just that...this information makes me a bit vulnerable and the less people knew about my Horcruxes, the better.

-Horcruxes? As in, plural? You have other people like me running around?"

I couldn't help but feel a bit hurt. Were they all his lovers, as well?

"No, not people, objects. The connection with you was an accident. I didn't know about it until I felt it when I met you.

-Objects? Is it what Moody was searching for? The rattle and all that?"

He snorted.

"Well, obviously, there is no rattle. I grew up in an orphanage, if I had a rattle, it must have belonged to at least ten other babies after me."

I smiled a bit despite the situation at the thought of a baby Dark Lord.

"Do you have any pictures of you then? I bet you looked so cute and adorable..."

He chuckled a bit darkly.

"Actually, they called me monster and they thought I was possessed by the Devil because I never cried and looked too intelligent.

-And pictures?" I asked, unable to stop myself. I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at him with a teasing smile on my face.

He answered it with a smirk, bringing one hand up and trailing it against my still puffy cheek. I felt it magically clean under his touch.

"No baby pictures, I'm afraid. There might be one of me at when I was about eight, however. I remember that they had taken one of the orphanage's children, that day. It might still be in some archives, somewhere."

I bit my lip. It was probably lost. Maybe I'd ask for a Pensieve memory at some point.

"It's horrible that they thought you were possessed. They must not have been very loving, then?"

He snorted and started carding his fingers through my hair.

"They tried to exorcise me when I was about ten. It was quite brutal. They thought I had killed the rabbit of a boy my age.

-Had you?

-Of course. He was an annoying and vulgar bully. But he never bothered me afterwards. He learnt to fear my strange power. Even at that time, I had quite a good control over my accidental magic. "

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. I winced a bit because of the sore flesh I had scratched out. I searched for my wand, finding it lying on the ground a foot away. I bent down to pick it up and shot myself a Healing spell and general grooming spells. I glance at my reflection. My hair was still standing on my head and my eyes were still a bit red from all the crying, but I looked sort of presentable, for my low standards. The dress robes I had put on for the occasion were all rumpled and dirtied, with wet spots staining the fabric. I'd have to change them before I went anywhere.

"I spent three years with my mother's Muggle sister before your Victory. Her beefy husband and she just shoved me in a cupboard and locked me in there. They called me 'Freak' or 'Boy'. When Sirius and Remus came to pick me up, I didn't even know my name. They were so angry on my behalf. When they told me that I wouldn't have to go back to my cupboard ever again, it was the best day of my life. It was my first Patronus moment, as well. So...I get a bit what you felt a bit with the crappy orphanage."

He sighed a bit, his fingers returning to my hair.

"Well, I'd rather you...

His sentence was cut short when we both felt someone magical hurrying to the room we were in. We got up to our feet quickly, wands drawn, right before the doors flew open and crashed on the walls noisily. Severus was running to us and looked breathless, as if he had run all the way from the entrance parlour to this room.

"The Rebels! They dropped a bomb on the Ministry!"

* * *

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Oh s* !

Thank you in advance for reviewing!


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

It appears that I was mistaken and that my readers are still enthusiastic about this story and eager to see where it is going. I'm really glad to learn it! It motivated me to pick up my writing again. So, thank you to those who put this story on alert and in your favourites and especially to my reviewers. I appreciate your support, everyone! :D

To answer my guest reviewers:

Guest: The only thing we know so far is that Moody got his Muggle explosives for 'somewhere' and gave them (or part of them) to the twins.

FanFiction Lover: Yes, I agree. A lot of people tend to forget that the Harry Potter books are for children, and that the morals and characters in the story are created for that public. But that's why we have fanfictions, right? To dig deeper and explore the possibilities that a fictive world offers. I think that, if he really existed, Harry would have a lot of psychological problems linked to his abuse and neglect. That's part of why all those 'Harry snaps and turn dark' stories just make sense with the character even if Harry isn't tempted to join the dark even once in canon. (Even if he has a penchant for using the Cruciatus on Death Eaters as a reflex in the end of the story that makes him look a bit hypocritical)

Apart from that, well, I'd just ask which accent you were imitating at the end of the review? I tried to voice it but I'm kinda crap at determining where an accent comes from. Oh, and 'Villainous Grannies', as you called them, still creep me out to this day as well. :P

autumngold: I hope this chapter will reassure you. ;)

Enjoy!

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Chapter 30: 31st of October 1997: The Ministry

The Dark Lord and I exchanged a glance and ran out after Severus who was billowing back to the entrance parlour ahead of us.

"The situation, Severus," asked Voldemort in a firm voice.

"My Lord, it appears that the Rebels had planned a coup for tonight's reception. Most of the elite of the Wizarding World were invited to attend, and they dropped the bomb right at the instant when your entrance was scheduled. Normally, the explosion should have blown up the entire Ministry, judging the damage it did, but the wards you developed against an eventual Muggle attack worked and the bomb shattered against them. The structural damage on the Ministry building itself seems to be minimal, according to Lucius, but I have heard reports that everything surrounding is in shambles.

-What is Lucius doing at the moment? Is he organising a rescue team to help the citizens buried under the rubble? Are there rebels in place attacking the building?

-My Lord, Lucius contacted me with our two-side mirrors, everybody who were at the reception are stuck within the building. The have shut down the Floo after it caused some of the worst cases of Splinching ever recorded. They estimated that the explosion disrupted the Floo connection. The rubble blocks the Muggle exits. They were completely destroyed. He doesn't know what is happening outside.

-Do we have an estimate of the casualties? Were there wizards and witches around the building at the moment of the explosion?

-Yes, My Lord, as you know, it was barely after working hours and a number of Ministry employees use the Muggle exits to head back home, most of them Half-Bloods and Muggleborns. We have no figure for the deaths at the moment, but it seems like quite a lot of them were killed or wounded in the explosion.

-What is being done?

-I don't know, My Lord, we all thought you were trapped in the building with them. We only just received the call from Lucius that confirmed you weren't in there. I head here directly to check if you hadn't left yet. As I said, the attack seemed to have been planned for the exact moment when you were scheduled to address the population. Lucius and I believe it was targeting you, in particular, as well as the Pureblood elite of society.

-Who's out there, of my Death Eaters? Who can help?

-My Lord, everyone were gathered at the Ministry for the gala...Bellatrix is at home, but...

-We'll leave her there. She would probably cause more hurt than good. Rodolphus?

-Stuck in the Ministry with Rabastan and Crouch."

The Dark Lord swore under his breath.

"Severus, go to St. Mungo's and coordinate the rescue and healing team. Dig in the emergency potions stack if necessary. You have complete authority over St. Mungo's for the duration of the rescue effort. Leave now.

-Yes, my Lord." He bowed quickly and Apparated away.

The Dark Lord turned to face me.

"You're in no shape to come with me. You will stay here until I return. The attack might have been targeting you as well." he said in his commanding tone.

I lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Don't even try. You know I'd just follow you the minute you're gone...And don't even consider inflicting Bellatrix as a babysitter." I replied, when I saw him open his mouth to object. "I'm fine now. Besides, I still feel all energised by your hug of earlier." I added, winking at him and springing a bit on my feet to show him I was good to go. I silently Summoned my emergency backpack from my room. You never knew when it could be useful.

He opened his mouth to disagree. I cut him off with a firm "No. I'm going."

He sighed. I guess he recognised the stubborn tone. He didn't have more time to waste.

"Fine, but you stay close to me and the minute you feel weak you come back. My guess is that it's going to be pretty bloody out there."

I nodded shortly at him and stepped closer to him.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and Apparated.

.

o0o0o

The sight that welcomed us looked like an apocalyptic scene. Entire buildings had crumbled to ashes and their cement skeletons were still standing rigidly in the vast field of broken concrete and burning cars. Bloodied limbs were jutting out from the debris under which they were buried and police sirens could be heard not far away from there. The air was reeking of death and sulphur.

The Dark Lord spotted a group of people in dress robes walking aimlessly around, shooting diagnosis spells randomly around. They were probably latecomers for the Gala. He briskly walked over to them and ordered:

"We have to get the people out before the Muggles arrive and take pictures. I need a team of Confounders and Obliviators. Who here has the highest grade in the chain of commands?"

A plump wizard lifted a hesitant hand.

"Me, my Lord. I'm the Head of Magical Sports and Games. I was late tonight, you see. It's good to see you out here, My Lord. We thought you were buried under there as well."

The rest of the wizards and the one witch nodded in relief.

"Good. You're Bagman, right?"

The plump wizard nodded hysterically his head, as if he couldn't believe the Dark Lord knew his name.

"You'll go to St. Mungo's, speak to Severus and tell him I need as many Obliviators as he can spare and send them here to do the job. The official story is a terrorist attack and we are the national security force. The rest of you," he transfigured their clothes in official looking Muggle army uniforms," establish a perimeter at half-a-Quidditch field or 300 meters around the Ministry building. Say they can't come closer because of the radiation. I'll set up the illusions. Questions? No? Good." They all looked at the Dark Lord with star-struck eyes before shaking their heads rapidly at the question.

Voldemort Apparated us at the 300m perimeter and traced a line on the ground with a short slash before turning to the Ministry building, lifting his hands and chanting. His wand did the most complicated movements I had ever seen and I felt a tremendous amount of magic being poured in the air around us. I looked at the Dark Lord's face. His brow was furrowed in concentration and I could see a bit of perspiration gather on his forehead. I stepped closer to him, instinctively, and placed a hand on his back slowly. He jerked reflectively, but didn't move away. I closed my eyes and focused on our link. Not a soul mate bound, but a soul connection nonetheless. I centered myself and started feeding magic into the link, supporting his effort. I felt him take a deep breath under my hand and straighten up, still incanting.

After a few minutes, he finally lowered his arms. I detached my hand from his back and looked around with my magical sight at the new dome enclosing the scene. It was enormous...and fuchsia. In a normal situation, I would have laughed at the fact that the Dark Lord had created pink wards, but not now, not in the midst of all this devastation. The Ministry building suddenly looked a in a worse condition than before and the wizards that were beginning to pop over were hid by the illusions set up by the Dark Lord.

The latter turned around, looking at me carefully.

"Thank you for the magic."

I had never heard him say that to anyone before. I smiled a bit at him and gave a light push on his shoulder.

"Come, Voldie, we gotta save your elite before we can take a break." I told him in a teasing tone. He snorted at the nickname. Well, that passed better than I thought it would.

He grabbed me again, and twisted in an Apparition. We ended up in front of a big pile of rubble. I could only vaguely see the shape of a staircase heading under the ground. It looked filled with debris.

"What's in there?" I asked, uncertain.

"What used to be one of the entrances from the Muggle world," he replied in a flat tone, casting a _Homenum revelio_ in that direction. It came back negative. Nobody was alive in there.

"It's too full, we won't be able to enter by there." He said, pulling me into another Apparition.

We were further away from the Ministry building, in a small side alley. The buildings around were destroyed, but some of their walls still stood. Under another smaller pile of shattered rock and twisted pieces of metal, a door was visible.

"Does that lead inside the Ministry?" I asked.

"Yes, it's an emergency escape. It was condemned after the end of the Second World War, but I reopened it. Only a few people know about it. I expect Lucius thought it would be blocked as well, so he didn't send anyone to check it."

The Dark Lord waved his wand and in another powerful gust of magic, the rubble cleared away from the door. "I've placed reinforcement spells on the walls of the passage. Hopefully, they will have held and we won't have too much trouble. However, be alert and prepared to Apparate away if the ceiling starts collapsing, just in case."

He opened the door. A putrid scent wafted up to us. I did a Bubblehead charm on us. The Dark Lord shot me an amused smirk and started down the tunnel, his wand lighting the way.

I took out some lighting balls I had from the Rebels and filled them with my magic, making them float at the same time. They went to light our way ahead of us.

"Nifty trick," commented the Dark Lord.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, huffing in humour at his choice of word.

"It's Rebel tech. You like it? Muggle flashlights and batteries inspired it.

-It's ingenious, but I'm not sure I like how the rebels use Muggle technology as an inspiration, I'm afraid." He said, gesturing at the corridor in which we were walking.

"I agree. They went too far with this bomb. They had already gone too far with Draco's kidnapping, in my opinion," I stated in a gloomy tone.

"In this precise case as well, they took tremendous risks to kill a big part of their opposition in one go, but they ended up murdering their popular support. Nobody will join up with them after such a disastrous attempt...I'm surprised that my wards worked so well against the bomb, I will confess. They were still at a testing stage and not ready to be implemented on a larger scale," he trailed off, pensively.

"It's a good thing you put them in place even if they weren't perfectly done. There have been enough casualties as it is. I can't even imagine what would have happened without them..." I replied, shuddering when I thought of the bodies buried under the debris.

After a while, he stopped suddenly. We had arrived at a crossing. He waved his wand around me and I felt an unknown spell settle on me.

"To the left is the Core of the wards, to the right, the Ministry Atrium. You have to take down the Apparition wards and I have to go reassure my population and direct them. I have just given you official authorisation to access them. I know you have some experience with Ward manipulation and I've seen you read countless more books on the subject in my Library. Can I entrust this task to you? It shouldn't be that hard, the Apparition wards were placed separately from the rest to be easily taken down in case of emergency."

I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise. He hadn't even wanted me to follow him here at first. But I felt flattered that he trusted me with such an important task.

"Yeah, of course. I'll do my best."

He shot me a quick smirk.

"I know you will. Come and join me up there when you are done, okay?"

I nodded. He pivoted on his feet and walked away briskly.

I turned back to the corridor to the left and took a deep breath.

_Ministry Wards, here we come!_

_._

o0o0o0

I walked carefully, scanning the corridor ahead of me. I was ready for a possible ambush. After turning a few corners and not meeting anything, I began to relax a bit and jogged to the Core of the wards. The Dark Lord was crazy to ask that of me. Those wards must have been in place for centuries!

I knew what this was. It was a test. I told him I could go with him and help. He's asking me to prove it by assigning me the most difficult task of the lot (well, I didn't think I would be able to coordinate the rescue teams like Snape had to do either). And I was going to prove myself to him. Strange bouts of insanity earlier or not.

Now that I was alone again, my reaction seemed even less understandable. Had it simply been one betrayal too much? Or was it because it was His betrayal? I sighed. It's not as if he had promised that he had told me the whole truth when he talked about soul mates. In fact, I think the mistakes he made in his act must have been hints. I bet he wanted me to discover the truth, to realise by myself that he had lied. Another test, then, hum?

It was strange that I wasn't that upset about it now that I knew the truth of our connection. It was kind of gross to think that your head contained more than one soul, to think that his soul had sort of leeched on mine all those years.

_At the same time, though_, I thought while rubbing my scar distractedly, _I can't deny it. And I'm relieved there is an explanation to why I have always been drawn to him and why his magic feels so much better than anybody else's I've ever met. I'm glad it wasn't just me being too weak to resist the same thing people around him feel every day. _

I'd have to ask him what a Horcrux did for him exactly. If he had more than one, he could probably afford my death. I mean, if I was that troublesome and he was just keeping me around out of necessity, he could, in theory, kill me without dying like I thought in the case of soul mates. From what I got from his short explanation, I was more like a failsafe to protect him from dying and nothing more, really.

My thoughts were cut short when I turned another corner. In front of me was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. It was a core of pure energy, pulsating with power. The magic was flowing in and out of it in ribbons of different colours, wafting through the air and disappearing through the walls around and the ceiling. I reached out a hand. The power was so focused that I felt warmth under my palm. I examined the layers of wards. They had been expertly sown together, weaved seamlessly above and around each other. It was the work of generations of ward masters and geniuses piled up and presented to me in offering. But I didn't have time to study them, I had a task to accomplish, and this one I wanted to carry out for once.

I scrutinised the ball of magic. The Dark Lord hadn't lied. The Anti-Apparition ward was, compared to the rest, only superficially incorporated in the Core. But it was delicate. _What is he thinking? I'm seventeen, by the gods! Not a hundred, like he probably is, that geezer!_

I rolled my sleeves up. I was still wearing those non-practical dress robes from earlier. I had become accustomed to robes in the past months, but these were much too loose for my taste.

I focused on my task. I readjusted my grip on my wand, holding it loosely in my hand to allow a maximum of flexibility in the movement. I seized the ward I wanted to deactivate. Thank Merlin for the research I had done lately, or I wouldn't have known that you could deactivate wards. I used to think you could only bent them temporarily or shatter them.

I stroke the ward I wanted to isolate, pulling and slowly extricating it from its grip in the rest of the core. After much sweat and more failed attempts than I would have liked, some of them actually passing close to mess the entire structure up, the ward flickered and became dormant. I fell back on the ground, panting fast. I concluded that the Dark Lord was as insane as I had been earlier. I nearly blew the whole thing up! What was he thinking? By all that is bloody Magic! And Merlin's soggiest underpants put on top of it! And Circe and Morgana, like Draco said!

After a short while, I cursed and rolled on my stomach, lifting myself painfully from the ground.

_I better get a massage after this or I won't be able to get up tomorrow...Oh, I know, I'll make the Dark Lord give do it in reward for my dedication and effort...hum...those hands...hum... _

I snapped myself out of my thoughts. I shouldn't kid myself. The Dark Lord would give me a massage if he felt like it. I couldn't ask anything of him, the man would never obey to anything, of course not. But I could hint to and negotiate, probably.

.

I put a hand on the wall and pushed myself up, returning to the crossing and slowly making my way up to the Atrium. It was curious. I was walking right below it and the ground was semi-transparent. I could make out forms of people walking in the Atrium. Nearly at the end of the passageway, I heard some voices reach me through the ground.

"My Lord, if I may ask...what happened with Harry?

-Whatever do you mean, Lucius?" There was a pause, a hesitation.

"I mean no disrespect but I couldn't help to notice that you look...as if you have fought recently and I was worried when you didn't arrive in time..." the voice trailed off uncertainly.

"You might as well come out with your question now, Lucius. My patience is thinning." The Dark Lord sounded annoyed.

"My Lord, have you and Harry duelled? He is...alive?" I got the distinct impression that he wanted to say 'dead' and changed his mind at the last second. I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. _So this is how it would have happened if he had killed me, earlier? Wow, I should feel privileged to hear that conversation._

"Why do I get the impression that you would be disappointed if that wasn't the case, Lucius? I didn't think you had enough interactions with the boy while he was at your Manor to justify such an attachment." _Oh, manipulating bastard. He so enjoys playing with the people around him and testing them._ I shook my head in disbelief. I may care for the man, I'd admit as much, but really, sometimes, he was exasperating.

I saw Lucius' blurry form straighten.

"At least he died honourably in combat. That's what he wanted." No, not really, I would much prefer to live.

"No, not really, he only wanted to be allowed a chance to live without a Duel looming in the horizon." _Wow, the Dark Lord is beginning to know me quite well._

I heard Lucius exhale in frustration.

"My Lord, was his death really necessary, then? He wasn't bothering anyone here; he could have gone back to my Manor if you didn't want him at your Fortress anymore...

-Careful, Lucius, or it will start to sound as if you were questioning my decisions.

-I...no, of course not, my Lord...Shall I make the proper arrangements for the funeral, then?

-There won't be any funeral necessary, Lucius."

I heard him gasp.

"My Lord, at least, allow his soul peace in the afterlife, I beg of you."

I was quite shocked. I had always thought that Lucius was only humouring me on his Lord's orders and that he found my incessant questions annoying. It sounded like he really cared.

"Why, Lucius, I didn't know you were so fond of the boy." _It was beginning to be eerie how in sync our thoughts were._

"He saved my son's life, my Lord. He became my son's friend. They have even continued to correspond after he left for Hogwarts. My wife is fond of him as well. He was a brilliant young man...May his soul promptly return to Magic...

-You're wasting your breath on this prayer, Lucius. Why don't you come out, Harry. I think you eavesdropped long enough."

I sighed. Of course, he would know I was there. I saw Lucius' form shuffle around a bit, as if he was trying to spot me. I made my way to the spiralling staircase and climbed it up with difficulty, pushing the trap door with effort. It fell on the ground noisily and I lifted myself out of the hole in the ground. When I looked up, I saw twin looks of relief and concern in the Lucius and the Dark Lord's eyes.

I sighed again, laboriously picking myself up and shuffling in front of the Dark Lord.

"You're an idiot to ask me to take care of the wards. I nearly blew the whole thing up a couple of times!" I hissed to him lowly. I didn't think he'd like other people to hear me insult him.

Lucius apparently heard anyway, because his eyes widened and passed from the Dark Lord to me rapidly. I shot him a small smile.

"Nice to hear you cared, Lucius. I was quite worried I would die alone earlier.

-Were the wards so bad to manage?" he asked in reply, frowning.

I snorted. If only it was just the wards.

"Nah, I was talking about earlier than that. But you know how old I am, right? I don't even have my OWLs, as the Dark Lord here loves to point out, and the next thing I know, I'm asked to go deactivate a ward in what has to be the most complex cores in Britain. You know, you should pick one: Am I young and incompetent or a mature wizard? What do you say?" I asked Voldemort.

He smirked at me and answered:

"I'd say that you're an impertinent brat. So, somewhere between your two suggestions."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"So, anyway. How are things going here?" I looked around; the Atrium was mostly empty now. "Everyone got out fine, then?" I asked the Dark Lord.

"Yes, I felt when you succeeded in lowering the ward and sent them back to their manors and castles. I put Crouch in charge of coordinating the efforts outside. I have to stay here because I'm still holding the illusions up."

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead in surprise.

"Ah, is that why you asked me to take care of the wards? It would have been way too draining to do it while holding the illusions."

He stiffened slightly at the allusion that he couldn't do something and scrutinised me. He was probably trying to see if I was mocking him. I wasn't. I was so drained myself already only with the wards...and a nervous breakdown earlier...My eyes closed automatically and I rubbed my forehead tiredly. I caught myself when I started swaying a bit. I felt a hand with familiar tingling magic press on my lower back. I opened my eyes to look at him. I smiled a bit in answer to the concerned glint in his eyes. I could see Lucius scrutinising us pensively a meter away. I turned back to the Dark Lord.

"I think I'd head home if that's fine with you?

-Good idea" he answered, looking around a bit. "I'll go outside see how the Muggles are taking everything. You should just go to bed.

-I'll accompany him, if you want, my Lord." interjected Lucius.

"As you wish, it would indeed be helpful, I believe.

-Woah, the Minister of Magic escorting me to bed. Isn't that a bit of an overkill? Besides, won't your loving 'electors' need you here, Lucius?

-Yes, but they need the Dark Lord more, and I'll only be gone for a few minutes," he answered.

I shrugged indifferently.

"See ya tonight, Voldie," I said, shooting him a teasing smile.

"Don't wait up, brat," was his reply. He hadn't addressed the nickname issue yet. It was surprising. It would probably come up when we'd talk about what had happened earlier. We had successfully skirted around the issue for the moment because of this bomb catastrophe, but I knew that we needed a serious discussion about it soon enough. Just...not before a good night of sleep at least.

"As if I could! I'll probably fall asleep a second before my head falls on my pillow. I haven't been this knackered since the Diagon Alley incident years ago. Bloody wards again, it's always their fault. Anyway, good night then. Will you Apparate us, Lucius?"

The Minister came closer to me, wrapping an arm around me.

"In the state you are now, you'd probably splinch us if you tried. St. Mungo's has enough to do already without adding two VIP patients on top of everything.

-Two? I'm one, but who's the other?" I asked innocently as we whirled around and Disapparated.

.

"Since when have you become this cheeky anyway? You were all mature and brooding when you were at my home. I leave you two months in the Dark Lord's Fortress and you come back joking all the time? That's not the usual effect this place has on people, I can assure you."

I shrugged a bit, too tired to pay too much attention to what I was saying or doing.

I shuffled to my bedroom, left Lucius at the door, changed into pyjamas, headed out again and went to my usual bed for the night. Lucius followed me without saying anything. When I arrived in front of the Dark Lord's rooms, I turned to him and lifted an eyebrow:

"What? Are you going to insist on following me inside to tuck me in now?"

He gaped at me slightly (As much as a Malfoy could gape, I supposed tiredly), looking at the door behind me.

"Harry, how long have you been sleeping in that room?

-Hum?" I asked confusedly. "About a month, why?"

Something like pity or sadness passed in his eyes.

"You forfeited about a month ago, right? I didn't think he would have asked that of you..."

That was random enough to shake me out of my sleepy daze.

"What are talking about, Lucius? I didn't forfeit...You're not making any sense today...

-It's okay, Harry. I got it; you don't have to hide it from me if you're ashamed. I'm just glad you're alive. He seems to be treating you relatively well, so I can't complain."

I nearly growled in frustration. What was this man on about? I just wanted to go sleep in my gigantic comfy bed among my forest of fluffy pillows and sleep until the Dark Lord came back and then maybe have some fun...hum...

"I mean, it's not that I hoped you won, really, because the Dark Lord is my Master and I'm his loyal follower, but I had hoped that the price he'd asked for your forfeit wouldn't be...as shameful as forcing you to pleasure him..."

My brain caught up with the conversation just at that last sentence. I bolted up from the door on which I had slouched.

"What, wait, what? The, who's forcing me to do what?

-The Dark Lord asked that you become his sort of...servant...' explained Lucius in a tentative voice.

"Are you kidding? You think I'd let myself become that? That's one of the only reasons I haven't forfeited yet! Seriously, the more time passes and the less I think he'd ask for something like that, because, come on, since when is he so short on submissive men getting on their knees for him the second he glances at them? The whole gay and bisexual population out there are practically begging to become his willing slaves. He doesn't have any use for that sort of things. That man craves challenges and defiant behaviour. How do you think I got away with calling him Voldie twice today in public?"

I sighed tiredly.

"It's nice of you to worry, Lucius. But I'm fine, really. This is completely consensual and mutually beneficial. So just go back to the disaster zone and don't mention any of this to the Dark Lord. Alright?"

Lucius detailed me and pondered my words for a few seconds before he nodded and bid me his goodbye.

I tiredly opened the doors and let myself crash across the giant bed. I wanted to pull the covers down and go underneath them, but I just needed to close my eyes for a second before to gather my energy to...

* * *

Voilà!

You'll get alternate POVs on other people's reactions in the next chapter, as well as the discussion between Harry and the Dark Lord.

Thank you in advance for reviewing! :)


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yayy! 700 reviews! You guys rock! :D *throws confetti in the air* Thank you to everyone who reviewed and put this story in their alerts or favourites. I really appreciate your support! :D

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FanFiction Lover: That was a generic American Accent? It sounded more...regional than that but, like I said, I really don't know much about the different American accents. On another subject, I'm glad to read that you liked the interactions between Harry and Voldemort. More of that right now in this chapter! ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 31: 1st of November 1997: New day

I woke to the feeling of a warm hand pressing on my back, trailing slowly downwards from my neck to the small of my back. I released a small grunt when I felt the magic transfer into my skin, infusing it with calming energy. I heard the rustle of clothes and felt the weight of the mattress shift beneath me. I jolted slightly when I felt him settle on my legs, his other hand joining the first and now massaging my back, working all the kinks out of it and washing away the stiffness in my muscles.

When the hands dipped down under my pyjama trousers, massaging the small of my back close to the cleft of my ass, I couldn't help the groan that escaped my lips or the gyrations of my hips, rubbing my newly awakened arousal on the mattress.

I sighed in pleasure, whispering "Oh, Merlin..."

I heard a deep chuckle coming from him. Of course, the smug bastard always loved to see and hear my reactions to everything he did.

"I'm better than Merlin, really. The man's power is just a tale. He was just a half-crazed druid that had smoked too much of his herbs when he decided to write his chronicles. What he said in there is unrealistic."

I rolled my eyes behind my closed eyelids. Really now, did I ask for the History lesson? He simply couldn't let false information pass before him without correcting it, no matter the occasion. Once, when we were testing the solidity of the bookshelves in his Library, he interrupted a rather enthusiastic dry humping session because he spotted two books that weren't placed in the right order in one of the rows.

He just had to go correct it or he would have obsessed about it and not be focussed on what we were doing at all. It was a bit insulting, really, but the man was an order-freak and nothing could be done about it now. I just had to bear with his strange quirks just like he had to with mine. For instance, no matter how many times he told me not to pull on his hair, I'd always end up with my two hands buried in it every time I climaxed. I did try not to pull on it too much, but I couldn't help but to close my hands tightly in the heat of the moment.

.

I sighed again. The Dark Lord had divine hands: long and agile fingers, a strong palm, and a slight roughness of the skin that just heightened the sensation of his touch. It was nearly unfair that he should be this good at giving massages when he probably hadn't practised often.

"Such soft skin you have..." he whispered nearly reverently. I snorted internally. That was another of his obsessions, even if it did make me feel quite flattered and desirable. I opened an eye, looking at him for the first time since I woke up.

The sight of him massaging me attentively, his long hair falling on both sides of his intense face as he eyed me hungrily, was enough to nearly make me moan out loud. I bit my lower lip as my eyes trailed on his naked torso, on the lean muscles shifting and tensing with the movement of his hands, on the dark trail of hair starting at his belly button and disappearing in his light pyjama trousers. I wanted him suddenly, desperately, immediately. But, before my body could act on those desires, I noticed the stress in his face, the dark bruises under his eyes, the caution in his gaze and it reminded me that I had reasons to be angry at him at the moment and that this massage was part of an apology which I hadn't accepted yet. For a moment, I thought of letting it go and giving him my forgiveness now, even if it would take a while before I could feel it sincerely. But I realised that if I did, it might set a precedent, and he might conclude that he could continue to lie to me and manipulate me without any consequences. It would make me look weak and pathetic.

He knew that one of the reasons our relationship had progressed this easily (minus the actual completion of 'the act'), was that I had come to believe him on the question of soul mates to a certain extent and to trust his word for it without having been able to conduct my own research about it. I suspected that he had taken the relevant books out of the library, after all, but I thought that it was because they would contain information on how to control the other mate, or some tricks of the kind.

He had had numerous occasions to confess his lie to me, like when our magic connected and he followed it to my body about a month ago. He hadn't. I had discovered it by myself. He would probably have kept the lie going as long as he could if I hadn't.

I exhaled slowly. Getting angry wouldn't do anything productive here. I had hidden things from him as well, like my understanding of Parseltongue, for instance. I tapped twice on his knee, so that he let me sit up. He climbed off me and went to sit at the head of his bed, his legs crossed in front of him. I settled at the bottom of the bed, right in front of him, my knees bent as I leaned back on the bed frame.

"Why the soul mate excuse?" I asked. Had I started the conversation with anything unrelated, it would have looked like an implicit forgiveness.

"They were too many signs of our link for me to be able to just...dismiss it completely," he explained carefully.

-You could have feigned ignorance," I challenged him.

"You needed a clear reason why I didn't want to kill you. Anything else than a connection equally powerful to this wouldn't have been motivation enough."

I thought about it for a while before I realised something.

"Did you just admit that you would have killed me had it not been from our soul link?"

He seemed hesitant, but then he sighed.

"To be perfectly honest, without knowing you like I do now, I wouldn't have hesitated to kill you. You just strolled in my life, you, the only one who, according to an infuriating but possibly right Prophecy, could destroy everything I have built throughout my life, and you challenged me to a Duel to death. Had you been anyone else, I would have killed you without hesitating in Lucius' study that evening. As it was, I think that the connection was already affecting me, even if I didn't know at the time that I was linked to you, and I had originally decided that I would give myself a few days to satisfy my curiosity. You...fascinated me like nobody else ever had. I had convinced myself that, after those few days, I would grow bored and get rid of you as if you were just a little nuisance. And then, of course, when I realised that you were my Horcrux, that night in Lucius' study...

-You knew already then?" I interrupted in surprise.

"I made the connection right after you were gone, in great part because of how touching you made my magic react. Anyway, I think that, if it weren't for the Horcrux connection then, I would have managed to convince myself to get rid of you. You had been a horrible distraction and you seemed like a useless risk to take with my life. I couldn't have let you go live in exile, or chained you to some wizard far away. You would have continued to haunt me, you and the Prophecy, because, as much as I am loathe to admit, and as much as I don't want to believe in ridiculous notions like Fate and Destiny, it still bothered me. However, knowing you like I do now...I know that you are not the vindictive hero I pegged you for. You are a pacifist at heart, even if you were forced into the role of a killer. I believe that, as long as I hadn't become an insane psychopath, you wouldn't have tried to go against me if I had made you swear an Oath of non-aggression like I did with the Longbottom brat. Am I wrong in thinking so?"

I shook my head, biting my lips. Even if it was a bit hard to hear him say that he would have killed me at first without the Horcrux link, I could understand his reasoning and I knew that he was telling me the truth at last. I cleared my throat.

"No, you're right. When I came to you, I was resolute. If I got out of that mess alive, I would have just...gone far away and never fought another battle in my life. Perhaps even...that I would have just lowered my wand altogether, abandoned Magic who saddled me with such a burden and joined the colourless and monotonous life of a Muggle. Did you know that Harry Potter is quite a common name in the Muggle world? Apparently, there are hundreds of Harry Potters in Great Britain only. I would have fitted in the crowd perfectly. I would have been...anonymous.

-You would have become a shadow of what you are currently. You were made for Magic. She loves you, She sings for you. Yesterday, when you were in your daze, She still protected you, even if your head was completely elsewhere; She made sure you were safe. Most of the shots I sent you to stun you or wrestle you down when you were attacking me just...evaporated when they came close to you. You dodged and blocked the only two that didn't because I overpowered them too much. An ordinary wizard wouldn't have been able to do that. You are one of her favourites. Just like I am."

I lifted my head quickly and held his gaze for a moment.

-Magic is sentient?" It was an endless scholarly debate in the Wizarding society. I had heard Severus and Lucius quarrel about it one evening when I was still at the Manor.

The Dark Lord smiled slightly.

"I like to think that She is...but I think that She doesn't have a conscience, per se. She just...reacts. She can grant Her favours to someone, only to take it back when they displease her.

-And you think She was favouring me even if I was behaving like a raving lunatic?

He smirked at my choice of terms, but returned to his pensive look.

"Perhaps she was still protecting me, since you are connected to me. You know, you were shooting me some pretty advanced curses then? I didn't think you'd know that much. There was even one in there that I only learnt of when I was around fifty years old. It was quite impressive, even if the delivery...and aim were a bit lacking."

I cringed a bit when I thought of how I shot the spells right and left. I didn't even remember what I used on him. _Thank the gods...or Magic...that nobody was hurt!_ I snorted at the thought.

"What?" asked the Dark Lord. That was another of his quirks. Don't laugh in front of him if you are not prepared to tell him why you did.

"I just thought that I was relieved that nobody got hurt in our 'Duel' yesterday. It was rather ironical of me to think that when I supposedly wanted to kill you.

-Did you really want to kill me?

-No, not really...but...it hurt..." I shook my head at him. "It just hurt me so much when I heard that you had manipulated me like you did. Were you laughing at my expanse every time I smiled at you or kissed you, or what? Was that all part of a 'Master plan to keep the Horcrux from rebelling against you', or something like that?"

He sighed tiredly, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe at first. I did not laughed at you in my head or anything of the kind, however. I was pleased that you were as attracted to me as I was to you and eager to explore the link we had. I never consciously took the decision to manipulate you with anything sexual we did. I just did it because I wanted to. That's always been how it worked for me, all my life. I want; I take.

-Why didn't you, then?" I interrupted him.

He lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Why didn't you just have sex with me if you wanted to, following your philosophy.

-I consider what we did as having sex. Just because it didn't fit in the narrow convention of penetrative sex doesn't mean it was nothing. But anyway, you are right, I didn't act normally. Perhaps because you are my Horcrux and, as such, not easily dispensable like most of my previous lovers, perhaps because I wanted to give you some time, perhaps because I felt an unprecedented level of affection toward you, perhaps because I thought it would just hurt you more if I took your virginity under the pretence of being your soul mate."

I felt shocked to the core. My heart melted in my chest as I looked at that powerful man who had turned pointedly away from me as he spoke of feelings he might never had had before in his life. When he finished talking, he met my stare defiantly, as if daring me to question to truth behind his words. I didn't. I trusted him on that. My mind flashed to the oath of Truth he swore for five minutes the day before. He had told me then that he cared about me. It just hadn't registered until now.

I swallowed, silently pondering while watching the bedspread under us. After a moment, I lifted my gaze back to his and confessed:

"I care about you too...but you can't manipulate me again like you did. I know you'll lie by omission from time to time, it's inevitable, but I would like you to try to tell me the truth on things that concern me directly."

He nodded silently. The hour rang in the grandfather clock in his study. The Dark Lord sighed.

"I have a lot to do today. Yesterday's fiasco is far from over. I'll probably be gone most of the week...

-It's alright," I interrupted him. "I have studying to do any way. Did Remus talk to you about the dates we agreed on for the OWLs exams?

-18th of November, if I remember right," he stated.

I shot him a small smile. Of course he remembered. His memory was just too good sometimes.

"One day, I'll figure out how you can have a memory like an elephant."

He barked a laugh and swiftly got off the bed. He shook his head at me.

"Dark Magic and obscure rituals, no doubt. I did it years ago to remember crucial information such as the date of your OWLs, brat." He tried to ruffle my hair, but I grabbed his hand before it could do any damage. I tugged on it as I got up to my knees on the bed, facing him.

"Come down here a bit, oh great Dark Lord," I asked him a teasing tone.

He smirked pleasingly at me while he bent down his head to mine.

"Great Dark Lord, hum?" he said, not an inch away from my lips. "We're making progress. Perhaps I should wait until you call me "My Lord" before I take you at last..."

I shivered as his breath caressed my face.

"On the contrary, if you want me to call you "My Lord", you would at least have to claim me before, I'm afraid..." I replied, crossing the remaining distance and greedily devouring his lips. When my hands sneaked up to his hair and pulled him to me, I heard faintly a repressed moan coming from him. _Hehe, so much for not liking me touching his hair_, I thought. But my smugness quickly evaporated when I felt his hand trail on my lower back, right where the border of my pyjama pants was and start toying with the elastic band and the skin just underneath it.

_Lower, lower, _I thought frantically and I tried to press myself up to him. Sadly, the wooden footboard of the bed prevented me of much contact. It was unacceptable. I climbed up to my feet swiftly, changing the angle of the kiss quite radically before I leaned on the Dark Lord and wrapped my legs around his waist. His hands went under me, to support my weight, of course, and started kneading the flesh of my butt, fingers edging closer and closer toward the only place that he had left uncharted in his exploration of my body so far. I hummed lowly in approval and pressed myself up on him, kissing him with renewed vigour.

When the Dark Lord's clock rang for a second time, I was ready to ignore it, but he stopped and sighed resolutely.

"Harry, I have to go."

I considered whining. He might have discovered my plan, because he cut it short.

"Well, what do you think is more important, your sexual satisfaction, or the security and future of the Wizarding World?"

Well, when he put it like, I had no choice but to comply. I climbed down and got back on my feet.

He shook his head at me.

"Gryffindors," he said, snorting, before he swept out of the room.

.

o0o0o

That morning in Hogwarts brought an array of urgent owls swooping down on the breakfast tables to reach their clients. Newspapers were splayed open on the tabletops with startled gasps of horrors and shrieks of unexpected grief resonated through the Great Hall; news of the event of the day before had finally reached the students of the school.

A young woman sat alone on the corner of a table, her features set in a stony mask of indifference as she took in the gut-wrenching scream of pain and disbelief of one of her fellow students situated a few seats down to her left.

As she spotted the trembling of her hands and felt her brow moisten in cold sweat, she hurriedly stood up and marched out of the room as calmly as she could get herself to behave. Nobody had taught her how to face such critical situations with poise. Everything in her nature was stirring in horror at her behaviour and she had barely restrained herself from shouting in indignation when she had seen the picture gracing the cover of that day's edition of the Daily Prophet.

She climbed in a secluded alcove and barely had time to cast her complex privacy spells before the sobs wracked her frame violently. A single wail erupted from her chest before she curled on herself and wished for death.

She felt the burden of those lost lives weight on her soul and she let herself drown in misery for just a few instants. It would be minutes, at most, before she could compose herself again, surely...

.

Hours later, she was still lying in the alcove; her eyes wide open and dry, but unseeing. Her mind was whirling with dangerous and treacherous thoughts, but never stopping to contemplate them, thankfully. She had lifted her hands to her face and stared at them for the longest time. Perhaps she was trying to see the invisible blood tarnishing them and staining her candid soul.

.

o0o0o

Severus let himself collapse heavily in a chair around the meeting table. He had worked relentlessly at St. Mungo's for the past thirty hours and only managed to stay upright thanks to his special brew of Pepper-Up and his iron will. His usual grace demanded that he straightened up in the chair and adopted a more dignified posture, but he really couldn't be bothered at the moment.

The worst was that he was sure that, the minute he'd return to Hogwarts, he would be attacked by anxious owls and Floo-calls from distraught parents who somehow couldn't understand by themselves that the Ministry and Hogwarts were at quite a distance from one another and that, as such, the students hadn't fallen victim of this heinous attack.

For vile and cowardly this move had been.

He silently sent a prayer to the gods of Nature above for making the Dark Lord so paranoid and weary of the Muggles. Only them knew how much more of a disaster this would have been if it wasn't for the Dark Lord's special wards against Muggles explosives. As it was, Severus was quite surprised that they had worked so well, especially since they had only been experimental ones at best.

"Severus, how is St. Mungo's?" asked the Dark Lord in his usual commanding voice.

The Potions Master inclined his head forward in a gesture of respect before he answered his Lord's question.

"Frantic, as one would expect, but now stable and organised.

-No doubt thanks to your skilled assistance, Severus. I am pleased to hear this. Do you have an estimate on the casualties as of yet?" asked the Dark Lord from his seat at the head of the table.

Severus replied in a neutral voice:

"Not yet, my Lord, but my personal estimate would be around a seventy deaths and a hundred wounded in the Wizarding patients and about ten times more of Muggles. Once their status was ascertained as such, they were transferred to Muggle hospitals, of course, so their numbers are unknown," explained Severus in a droning voice. Seventy deaths were a considerable dent in their small community. It wasn't catastrophic, but it would set them back of a few years at least in the Dark Lord's population regrowth scheme.

His thoughts were interrupted by the dull thud of a fist hitting the arm of a chair. His Lord didn't look pleased at the news. Those bloody eyes were shining with fury.

"I do not care about such trifling details such as the amount of dead Muggles. You would do well to remember so, Severus," said the Dark Lord before turning abruptly to Lucius, who bowed his head elegantly before saying his report.

"My Lord, upon careful examination of the remains of the 'bomb' and the state of the special wards, the wardmasters and explosives experts have reached the same startling conclusion: It seems like this 'bomb' was originally conceived to be much more powerful, but was purposely sabotaged before its utilisation. The reasons behind this theory have still yet to be found. The team was also able to ascertain that this was, or used to be at least, a Muggle bomb. The question of the responsibility for its creation seems to point towards the rebels since the remains showed signs of magical manipulations. The rebels' profile, however, does not correspond to this style of attack, nor has it been known that they had arsonists or Muggle experts among their group...My Lord, I fear..." hesitated the Minister for Magic with furrowed brows.

"Say it already, Lucius, some of us are busy men," cut the Dark Lord impatiently.

Lucius started to bristle at the implication, since he was after all the Minister of Magic, but apparently seemed to remember to whom he was speaking because he stifled his objection down. He straightened up on his chair nonetheless to finish his report.

"My Lord, I fear that the Rebels, to be able to plan such a coup, had to have gained the alliance of either an unknown new power or...of the Muggles."

Severus felt his eyes widen at the implication. This could be potentially disastrous.

* * *

...

Oh shit.

Next chapter: Planning for retaliation, a jealous Dark Lord and its...consequences. Hehehe.

Thank you in advance for reviewing! :D


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Ahhh, my great reviewers, how I love you! Thank you once again for your amazing support! :D

To my guest reviewers:

Guest: Hasn't Harry already given up the Rebels? I think you'll like his decision in this chapter ;)

autumngold: I never planned on killing Lucius (at least not yet). I like him too much! :P I think you are right in your hypothesis regarding the public perception of the Rebels. As if they didn't already have enough bad press. :P

ariana: I'm flattered! There won't be as much catching up this time, so hopefully you will be able to go to sleep at a reasonable time ^^

FanFiction Lover: My Voldemort never does anything without a purpose. Keep that in mind, and you'll be fine. Also, I just want to add that...there won't be a clock interrupting this time ;)

Warning: Slash. Mature content is broken from the rest of the text in case anyone wants to skip it. (you never know)

* * *

Chapter 32: 4th of November: Owls and Meetings

I was sitting in the deserted library, alone once again. I hadn't seen the Dark Lord properly for the past four days. He only came back to sleep, and most of the time, it was much too late and he was too tired to talk.

I only knew he came at all because I had become so used to having his magic wrapped around me in my sleep that I couldn't rest properly if he wasn't there. Every night, at some indecently late hour, I'd feel his presence and immediately calm down when he joined me in the bed. I would hear him chuckle a few times to my reactions, before he'd settle down close to me, wrapping an arm around me from behind and pulling me to his chest. I would then inevitably sigh in relief and he would chuckle again, the smug bastard.

_Chuckle away_, I thought obstinately, _you know you like it and need it just as much as I do._

Apart from his nocturnal presence, however, I hadn't seen hide or hair the man. Sometimes, like now, I could feel that he was somewhere in his Fortress, probably working with some of his ministers and assistants on one important matter or the other.

I wouldn't go and bother him. He'd come and visit me when he had the time. I wasn't a little spoiled brat depending on him to have something to do just because I missed his presence from time to time. My OWLs were coming up in only two weeks, after all. I could live a few days without the man's attention.

I felt the wards of the Fortress shift to admit an owl. Ever since I arrived here, I had passed a considerable amount of time examining the wards the Rebels had wanted me to break. I had soon realised that the 'expedition' they had planned to launch against the Dark Lord that was supposed to allow me to battle and kill him wouldn't have worked. It would have crumbled right there, before it even started.

The wards were the closest thing to impenetrable I had ever seen. By now, I knew them quite well and I still thought I'd be unable to make even a dent in them, mostly because everything was protected by Blood Wards of the Slytherin family.

The Slytherin family, as in, old, rich, powerful, influential and paranoid, not totally unlike the current Lord who inhabited this Fortress. Salazar had thought of everything. He had decades to perfect the wards, and his illustrious descendants had completed whatever he didn't have time to finalise.

Because of my soul link with the Dark Lord and because I had been staying there for quite some time, the wards now recognised me, to a certain extent. They welcomed me back with a warm tingle in the rare times I had left their security and I could feel them shift when people were entering and leaving. The Dark Lord probably had a lot more of feedback from them than me, but the amount of information I was granted was puzzling enough.

For instance, I knew that there were four people with the Dark Lord now, approximately in the north wing. I had never even been there because it was where he received his ministers and ex-Death Eaters. His research was usually done in the warded laboratories underground. I hadn't been there either, but it didn't bother me. This place was huge and I didn't need to know its every nook and cranny.

.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the owl that landed right on the desk in front of me, its leg extended in my direction.

The only correspondence I had received ever since I had arrived here were the weekly letters Draco and I sent each other, and the occasional note or precisions delivered for Remus or Severus. By now, I knew their owls.

Lucius came to see me in person if he wanted to talk to me. I thought he might come visit in the past few days to talk about his recent discovery of my relationship with the Dark Lord, but he hadn't. They were all busy dealing with the aftermath of the bomb, after all.

I sent all the detection spells I could think of at the owl, even if I knew that it wouldn't have passed the wards if it were carrying anything potentially dangerous. They all came back negative.

I peered at the envelope, recognising Neville's handwriting. I felt a shock of surprise and apprehension surge through me. Why was he contacting me now? After almost a month?

I detached the letter carefully and opened it, cautious of any substances that might have covered its inside. I wouldn't put it past the Rebels to try to trick me like that. They had taught me how to do it, after all.

Inside, only one word was written.

"Vulture"

That was the identification code for the best series of encrypting magic Neville had ever created. It required three passwords, one magic signature and a drop of blood. Remus had looked at him as if he was crazy when Neville proudly showed his creation to us. Remus said that nobody would ever go for it. Magical signature and blood were the minimum required to attest of your identity in a Ministry trial, after all. One didn't ask that of someone to whom they sent a letter: the possibilities of fraud once they had the samples were endless. To reassure Neville, I had promised at the time that I would do the authentication procedure if I ever received a letter like that from him. And it seemed that the vow I had made nearly five years ago was now tested.

With this message, Neville said: "if you want me to trust you with my safety, you have to trust me with yours."

_Fair enough_, I thought decisively. _I offered him safety and I'm not one to back away before a test._

I waved my wand above the paper and send a bit of his magic in it. The paper glowed red before returning to normal. Magical signature accepted. I took out the knife I always carried with me and made a drop of my blood fall on the parchment. It flashed of an acid green colour. I waved my wand above and spoke the three passwords the Neville had set with me by a sunny afternoon of a June all those years ago. The ink seeped through the parchment and formed a message.

It read:

_Harry, _

_I'm might just take you up on that offer. Life was unbearable enough when you left and Moody proclaimed me as the new Saviour, but now it's even worse. I could barely escape long enough to visit my parents once and they watched me even more closely afterwards. _

_To be honest though, I wouldn't have taken you up on it if it hadn't been from what happened at the Ministry a few days ago. I knew that they had big plans that involved some sort of Muggle weapons, but I didn't know their target and I didn't understand what it would do. I should have researched it more, asked more questions. Now all those people are dead and it's partly my fault by passive association. I can't bear the guilt and horror of being with the Rebels anymore. I know that the world out there isn't pretty and I'm terrified of leaving this place, but I know in my heart that it's the right thing to do. _

_All this useless training, all this anger around me, all this pressure placed on my shoulders...it has barely even been three months and already it's unbearable! I don't know how you survived it for so long...I guess the key word here is 'survived', right? I hope you are learning to live wherever you are now._

_If you decide to help me, I don't want to know any details, in case I leak the info out next time I'm Legilimensed by Moody in one of our 'lessons'. I had enough trouble already with keeping him out of the memories of your owl and of my visit to my parents._

_I tried to do indirect enquiries around the Rebels after the Ministry attack. A lot of the wives and husbands of the Council members don't agree with the decision taken. I don't know if they'd leave without their 'significant other', however. They are bonded couples, as you know, so they wouldn't take well to the separation. _

_Old man Doge looks like he has thrown in the towel. He doesn't leave his house except for meals anymore. He refuses to speak with anyone on the Council but let me in after I did a few comments on how I hated the new attack strategy. I think Doge would like to escape with me if that's possible. _

_The Vance family has never really gotten back up on their feet after Emmeline's death and they want to leave as well. Sturgis doesn't want to hear anything negative about the Council, but his wife confessed to me that she wants to divorce him (they are married with the Muggle authority only anyway) and leave with her children._

_The Edgecombes would like to leave as well. I'm sure you remember that they were never the most convinced Rebels in the village..._

_I have no idea what you have planned and what you can really do, but all of these people want to leave. I can't go away and abandon them. Can you help us all? I promise that we are all very tired of the war and would just settle in some peaceful corner of the world without making much problem..._

_I don't know how you want to arrange this...Patronus message when you're ready for action? I really don't know, Harry. Hopefully, you'll be better organised than I am. _

_What shall I do? Can you help us all? _

_Magic blesses you, Harry, if you can._

_Awaiting nervously your reply, _

_Neville. _

o0o0o

I let the parchment roll back on itself as I thought. This would complicate everything. I had thought of asking Remus if he could welcome Neville in the home he shared with Tonks, but if they were so many leaving the Camp, there was no way I could slide it past the Dark Lord without him noticing. I would have to negotiate with him.

A sigh climbed up to my lips. This was potentially important. So many of them deserting the Rebel cause was news that was worth a lot. To me, at least. The Dark Lord probably would not trust them. He would think it was a trap. I knew Neville, however, and the other boy would never lie on something this important. But what did I have to bargain with for their freedom?

My feet had carried me slowly in the direction of the Dark Lord as I thought. I could think of nothing in my possession worth the exchange for a dozen Rebels.

I stopped in front of a mahogany door. Voices were filtering from the small gap at the bottom. _Why didn't he put up a Silencing charm, at least? Does he trust me that much not to spy?_

"...most ridiculous thing I've heard coming from your mouth since years, Crouch, and Salazar knows I've heard some nonsensical ideas from you throughout my years as a Minister." I recognised Lucius' voice quite easily. He sounded exhausted and exasperated.

"I don't see you suggest any better, oh great Minister! Do I have to remind you that it is MY department who was the first to respond when the crisis broke, while you just shook your mirror shouting at Severus to get our Lord...You know, you sound so reluctant to act that I get the impression that you are scared of the big bad rebels."

I had never heard that voice, but I knew that Crouch was the Head of the DMLE. I supposed that this was him.

"Again with that nonsense! I'd be in that dump massacring all of them for what they did to my son if I could, but the fact remains, Crouch, that we haven't managed to find the location. If that little detail has escaped your attention, you are even less perceptive than I pegged you for..."

I frowned, pondering what I heard while Crouch and Lucius continued to quarrel. If the unknown location was all that prevented them from going and killing everyone, it was up to me to negotiate the safety of the children and the uninvolved witches and wizards inside the village with the information. After all, I was sure that the Dark Lord would find it soon enough with the help of some obscure rituals.

"You can enter, Harry," I heard the Dark Lord's voice say through the door.

The man had probably sensed my magic's proximity. I didn't feel guilty about listening. He would have put up a ward if he didn't want me to hear or come closer. I pushed the door open and strode in confidently. I wouldn't look like the boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The room was circular, as was the central table. There was blood red thick carpet on the ground and everything was decorated with darker wood than the rest of the Fortress. Tall, comfortable-looking armchairs were placed around the table. I recognised Lucius, sitting in one of them. He looked slightly ashamed that I heard his bickering with Crouch.

The latter, I assumed, had straw-coloured hair and freckles that contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin. He looked quite well muscled and still at the top of his form. He had to be to manage the DMLE. Nobody would respect a bureaucrat there. While I was thinking this, Crouch was eyeing me up and down strangely. He was probably trying to seize me up as a potential adversary. That was what I had been doing anyway.

I decided to stop looking at the man and turned my attention on the two other men I recognised, although I had never met them, as Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, two other high-ups in the Death Eater hierarchy. Bellatrix was not there. Thankfully. The two brothers didn't look like they suffered from her affliction. They looked very calm and composed and both sported a look between surprise and amusement at my arrival.

I dismissed them and turned to the Dark Lord, at last. The man looked tired. Well, most wouldn't be able to see it, but I could see the exhaustion through the glamour and in the slightly paler tint his magic had taken.

I frowned at my observation. The man's lips twitched in amusement at my concerned glance and walked closer to me, sliding a warm hand at the small of my back and directing me to an empty chair. I sat willingly enough and faced them all with a blank face.

"If I told you that I have received a letter from Neville Longbottom who informs me that he and at least a dozen other Rebels wanted to leave the camp, what would you say?" I asked the Dark Lord.

He looked at me attentively.

"What sort of Rebels?" he asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"The inactive, unproductive ones, mostly. Apart from Neville and one of Sturgis' daughter. She was quite the proficient dueller when I left. Marietta Edgebombe wasn't so bad either, even if she was a bit shy around me...

-Why would we want to welcome among us those who have mocked and endangered our society for so long? Especially since most are without qualifications," he reasoned.

I wanted to protest that Neville was at least as talented a Herbologist as any Master, but somehow I didn't think that the Dark Lord cared much about Herbology. I decided against mentioning it. I took another approach that would probably interest him more.

"You would if I gave you the location of the Rebel Camp in exchange for the safety of those who can't fight and those who want out," I challenged.

My statement was received with thunderous exclamations of surprise. They had all more or less shouted in denial at me, apparently. Except for the Dark Lord, that is, of course. He had remained silent, the only indication that he had heard what I said at all was a small smug smirk stretching his lips and a glint of challenge sparkling in his eyes. I decided to address what I understood of what the others had said, instead of trying to decipher his facial expression.

"Yes, precautions were taken so that nobody could propagate the information. However, I'm pretty sure that I have found a way around it," I revealed to them.

Lucius leaned forward, glee and vindication flashing through his eyes. I knew he was thinking of Draco's torture. He adopted a careful mask before speaking, however.

"You would condemn the whole movement to death, everybody you grew up with, in exchange for a dozen of children and elderly spared?" he asked measuredly.

"I also want full access to my vaults and as well as complete, unmonitored control over them," I added on the spur of the moment. I had wanted to get it at some point anyway, so why not include it in this negotiation?

They paused, examining the deal. I knew they didn't care about my vaults; they just wanted to see if they could get a better bargain.

"That's nonnegotiable." I added firmly.

I saw a hungry glint enter in Crouch's eye when I said that. When I turned my gaze to him, he smiled warmly at me and nodded encouragingly. I turned back to the Dark Lord, who was looking at Crouch in barely concealed anger.

_What has happened? He didn't look angry a minute ago._..

As if he felt my eyes on him, the Dark Lord turned to me, observing me very closely. I frowned at him.

_What is wrong with him? _I thought, puzzled and a bit worried.

He must have found what he was looking for in my questioning glance because he straightened up and asked me:

"What is your plan to take the protections down?"

"The wards are designed so that people would not only gradually forget about the location, but also be unable to talk about what they still remembered. You can only see the Camp if you know with absolute certainty it's there. Since I had some control over the wards when I was part of them and had strong Occlumency shields, the Memory charms were partly obstructed. I can still remember its location, but probably not enough to lead you there only by myself. I'll need the help of those who has left the Rebel Camp in the last years to pinpoint the entry gate to the wards. Neville and the others can help from the other side. It's going to take some massive power to pull them down, I can tell you that," I explained briefly.

"Do we have to act soon before your memory deteriorate even further?" asked Lucius in the voice of someone who was itching to go gather everyone and leave right now.

"No, the Memory charm already had its effect on me the second I left without the intent of coming back.

-When do you suggest we attack, then?" asked Crouch. He sounded strangely eager to put me in command. I looked at him a bit questioningly and he just licked his lips quickly as if he had a tick. I shook my head slightly to get myself back on the subject.

"We really need some time to plan everything. I'll draw you some sketches of the wards and of the Camp and we have to work our way through that before anything else. We also need Draco to be there...

-We can pull him out of Hogwarts for a weekend," suggested Lucius.

-No, I don't think it would be a good idea. I know the Rebels have spies within Hogwarts. We can't take the risk to alert them that something isn't right. The minute they smell something fishy, they'll evacuate the Camp immediately and my knowledge won't do any good anymore. Everything is perpetually ready for a hasty departure there. We have to trap them within their wards to make sure that they don't escape. That's why we need to plan efficiently. Currently, all of you are also busy with dealing with the repercussions of the bomb, right?" I asked them in a decisive voice.

Voldemort's generals nodded at me sharply. I straightened up automatically and adopted a more official posture at their militaristic response.

"You'll be busy enough without dividing your attention on it. I personally have my OWLs exams scheduled in two weeks. I suggest that we give ourselves that time to settle our current problems and, in two weeks time, agree to reconvene and start planning the assault. Perhaps the coming Yule would be the best timing for our plan. What do you think of it?" I asked around.

I noticed that they were all looking at the Dark Lord who was now standing somewhat behind me. I suddenly realised that I had taken over his meeting and addressed his Death Eaters as if they were mine to direct. I looked at Voldemort over my shoulder. I really couldn't decipher his expression. He was really watching me closely, though.

"I will think about it. You are all dismissed," he said in a curt voice before striding out of the conference room. _Hum, that doesn't look good. Maybe he'll think I undermined his authority in there._

The four others got up to the feet swiftly and headed out as quickly as they could, nodding at me on their way out. Crouch, who was the last to leave, turned to me before he exited. He placed a hand on my shoulder in comfort and rubbed his thumb over my shirt there reassuringly. I sent him a small smile. I didn't think that Voldemort had such nice men in his Death Eaters. It would be good to get to know him better when we would do the planning. Maybe he could become another good friend like Lucius and Draco turned out to be.

Before he could say anything, however, the Dark Lord barked at him to get out of the room. Crouch jolted back quickly and left, but not before he sent me one last intense look. He was a bit confusing in his behaviour, really.

When the room was empty, I headed to the door. But, before I could reach it, the Dark Lord strode back in, slamming the door shut and putting up silencing spells in one brisk move. I swallowed. I was in a world of trouble.

He came up to me, something flashing in his ruby-red eyes. He was eyeing me closely. I had no idea what he was searching for.

"I didn't mean to take over like I did, I swear..." I started to explain before I was cut short by a lifted hand. _Is he going to hit me with that hand or what?_ I thought incredulously.

"Those are my highest-ranked generals. If they don't know yet who is in charge here, there would be a serious problem.

-Still," I continued, sincere in my desire to apologise. "I shouldn't have taken control like that. The commands just came out of my mouth like that, I swear...

-You show good abilities as a leader, Harry. I would have indeed appreciated if you deferred more to my authority in front of my Death Eaters, but I know you didn't do it on purpose."

I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise. _That's it?_

"You didn't think I was undermining your authority?" I asked him cautiously.

"On the contrary, I think it showed that I was comfortable enough in my power to let you take control in front of them."

I grinned at him, happy that he hadn't taken it badly. _Crisis averted._

"I wasn't comfortable with how familiar you were acting with Crouch, however," he said in a chilling voice.

"What? What are you talking about?" I asked him, frowning.

He prowled closer to me, looking at me intently before he stopped an inch from me.

"Oh, I think you know. You can't be that naive..." He made a tense pause. "Did it arouse you to flirt with him in front of me? Did you think it would make me jealous?"

I drew back in shock. I stuttered, before I regained countenance and shouted:

"W-What? I wasn't flirting! That's preposterous! Why would I do that?"

He lifted his head and looked down at me, his eyes still narrowly observing me.

"Why indeed. Young men are so fickle in their attention. Should I count myself lucky I had yours for a month or two? Or are you simply unsatisfied with our current activities and seek your pleasure elsewhere?" he said in growing anger.

I blinked and gaped at him, unable to process what he was saying.

"N-no! He was just being nice, for Magic's sake! I had never even met him before! And I wouldn't do it anyway, you know that! We're together already; I don't have any reasons to do...We're...together, right? I mean...exclusively together, right?" I asked him hesitantly. _Had I misread our relationship? After all, we hadn't really discussed it after I learnt of his lie. There was no reason for us to have any type of special relation now that I wasn't his soulmate officially anymore..._

"Why? Would you justify your actions as retaliation for hypothetical lovers I'd have on the side? Was that was this flirting was about?" he said, confusing me even more before I started to feel indignant and defensive.

"That was nothing! By the gods, how paranoid can you be? I'm not the one gone all day! I'm not the one refusing to shag properly! And then, you have the nerve to ask me if I'm planning to cheat on you just because one of YOUR Death Eaters just happens to treat me a slight little bit nicely. I can't believe how you insulting you are!" I shouted. I was on verge of stamping my foot, when the Dark Lord interrupted my rant by suddenly lifting me up and slamming me on the table. My head hit the hard wood with a thud and I let out a shout.

"Ow! What the heck! What are you...doing?!" I screamed at him, fighting against the weight that settled on me.

He paused on top of me, restraining my wrists on the table. He looked deep in my eyes before hissing in Parseltongue:

_§ You are mine, Harry. My Horcrux, my lover; mine to please and mine to deceive; mine to hurt and mine to heal. Nobody else gets to touch what is mine. Do you understand? §_

I felt shivers of arousal travel through my body, despite myself. I wanted to spit on his face and tell him that I wasn't an object; that I was a human being who had the freedom of choice and who could and would decide of my life and of with whom I had sex.

However, the only thing that came out of my mouth was a whispered _§Yessss...§_ as I felt the Dark Lord's hand cup my newly awakened arousal. My unwitting confirmation seemed to appease him.

_§Tonight, I'll mark you as mine, § _He hissed in my ear softly, caressing my cheek.

I exhaled a breath and stopped struggling, closing my eyes. I was relieved that he had calmed down and eager for my wait to be over, but I couldn't let his violent behaviour pass without comment. I wasn't an object; I wasn't a slave. He couldn't dictate things like that. Shouting at him never helped, however, I knew that much by now even if I tended to forget it in the heat of the moment.

"Even if we do have sex tonight, I still won't be yours completely. I may be your Horcrux, but I'm also a person. I won't cheat on you, I'm not like that, but I hope you won't, or haven't either. Those sorts of things have to be mutual to work. And, by the way, your possessiveness might be arousing right now, but I'm not a tool to control, get it? I thought we established that a few days ago. You have to trust me enough to believe me when I say I'd be faithful. " I tried to make my point as firmly as I could while being still pinned to the table and looking up at him.

He sighed, as if annoyed, before climbing off me and looking at me, evaluative.

"I don't trust anybody," he stated.

"You can try with me, right? It's not as if I could leave you anyway. I wouldn't be able to sleep properly for the rest of my life," I tried to joke, pushing myself up and going to stand next to him.

He snorted at the reminder of my nightly behaviour and threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to follow him out of the room.

"Where are we going?" I asked him.

"To my chambers. My evening schedule was suddenly cleared up now that I've sent my followers away and I just remembered that I have something very important to take care of," he said evasively.

I lifted one eyebrow at him in question.

"And what is this thing you suddenly remembered you had to do?" I asked him.

He stopped walking and bent his head closer to mine, his lips stretching in a dark smirk.

"You didn't fool me one second with your 'I'm a human' speech. I know you crave for me to possess you completely and utterly. And in a few minutes, my little Horcrux, I'm going to make you beg and scream beneath me. I'm going to make you forget your own name and whisper mine in abandon. And then, you will understand once and for all that you are mine. Get it?" he said, echoing my tirade of earlier.

I shivered again under his intense gaze. I always knew that this powerful man, with his delicious magic ensnaring me and his low velvety voice seeping through my skin and tickling my nerves, would be the death of me one day. It would only be in a different way than I originally thought.

I swallowed, nodding slightly when I saw him lift an eyebrow at my lack of answer. There was no turning back now. I felt a thrill pass through me.

.

o0o0o

Somehow, we were suddenly in his bedroom. Had he Apparated inside of his Fortress or had the corridors passed by without me noticing? I didn't know and didn't care.

I felt my back collided with the mattress of the bed and the Dark Lord's mouth latched on my neck, his body plastered over mine, the weight pressing me down. I threw my head back in the pillow, my breath coming out in gasps, my hands playing with the bottom of his shirt, trying to tug it out of his pants. The dress robes he wore were frustratingly in the way.

I huffed out in annoyance and heard the Dark Lord chuckle against my throat before whispering a spell. A gust of wind passed over me and suddenly I felt that my clothes had disappeared. I shivered, opening my eyes to look in the Dark Lord's eyes. Lust was burning in his gaze. I felt myself flush in arousal, even if it was far from the first time he saw me naked. Somehow, knowing what was coming, I couldn't help but feel slightly nervous under his gaze. My nerves vanished as I noticed that his clothes had evaporated as well and that he was lying next to me, propped up on his side, miles of smooth skin and lithe muscles bared for my perusal. He reached up to kiss me hungrily, his hands roving over my body, his tongue swirling around mine, his magic duelling and entwining with mine. I pulled him on top of me, wrapping my legs around his waist before closing my eyes and melting against him and losing myself in the sensations...

.

Hands wandered and stroked in silky caresses before I felt him direct his attention lower. A slick finger teased and prodded before sliding in me. The sensation was peculiar, but I had experimented on myself enough by now to be familiar with it. The finger circled around, stretching the muscles while I attempted to control my breathing and to force myself to relax.

The Dark Lord's magic wrapped me in delicious heat and made me lose my focus long enough to make my head swim in a daze. I felt him crash his lips against mine and eagerly responded while he pumped his fingers in me. I wrenched my mouth away from his to moan audibly when I felt him touch the peculiar bundle of nerves inside of me. I arched back minutely at the sensation and, when I opened my eyes again, I saw him watching me closely. It used to bother me but by now, I just felt it flattering that he was so focused on observing my reactions whenever we were in bed.

Lost in my pleased haze, I distractedly saw him cover his arousal of the slick liquid but I distinctively felt when his fingers abruptly exited me, leaving me with a peculiar feeling of emptiness and when the head of his hardened member came to touch the sensitive skin. He slid in slowly and I felt my muscles stretch to accommodate him. The sensation of being filled to the brim was quite weird, again, but pleasurable nonetheless. I felt his warm hand come to rest on my shoulder, making me look up to him. His ruby-red eyes had never seemed so vivid as now. They were practically gleaming at me and I felt his magic swirl and tide against mine as he rolled his hips forward at last. I gasped and let my head fall back on the pillow, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist.

He found the right angle and upped the rhythm until we was pounding mercilessly on my prostate. My eyes rolled towards the back of my head, my hands caressed the skin of his chest and his shoulders, grasping him reflectively every time he touched that particular spot inside of me.

After a while, my legs felt a bit strange where they were, wrapped loosely around him. I lifted them up, bringing them closer to my chest. I saw the Dark Lord smirk at me before he grasped them and pushed them back as far as they could reach. As I was quite flexible with all the training I had done in my life, I saw the him lift an eyebrow when they just kept bending until he had a smug smile and returned to his pounding with renewed vigour. The new angle brought a renewed onslaught of intensity that made me gasp and pant.

I tried to meet up his trusts as best as I could, but the heady sensation of the physical pleasure combined with his warring magic against mine was getting to me. It surprised me that he hadn't kept his Occlumency shields as strong as usual. Because of that, I could also feel his presence in my head better than ever through our connection and it was feeding some his pleasure back to me as well. The sweet pressure was building up steadily. I contracted the muscles of my butt reflectively at the thought. I heard him draw in a quick gasp at the feeling. I did it again, shivering at the reaction it created for both of us.

I felt more connected to the Dark Lord than ever before, joined, not just physically, but also mentally, magically, spiritually, even. He was everywhere around me, on me, in me.

I distractedly felt him reach between us to grab my neglected arousal. That was enough to send me over the edge and bring him soaring with me as I contracted the muscles in my butt as tightly as I could.

.

When I opened my eyes again, he was looking at my expression raptly and had a small smug smile on his face. I might or might not have shouted something when I came as he had predicted. Damn talented man. After catching our breath for a little while, he pulled out and cleaned us magically before lying down at my side.

o0o0o

I snuggled at his side, knowing from our previous activities that it amused him more than bothered him and I placed my head on his shoulder.

My eyes opened as I pondered what we had just done and my change of status in the order of things. I officially wasn't a virgin anymore. I had lost my virginity to the Dark Lord. Somehow the second realisation hit me harder than the first.

I lifted my head to look at his face. He still looked quite young, in his mid-thirties perhaps. His hair was a very dark brown, nearly as black as mine was. I imagined that even if his hair had some grey in it, he would still manage to make it look very dignified. He didn't have lines on his face at the moment. He looked relaxed and sated. I smiled smugly at thinking that I had contributed to that. He lifted an eyebrow in answer. He wanted to know what I was thinking about, again. Too many years as a Legilimens surrounded by untrained servants made him like that, I supposed.

"You were right," was the answer that came out of my mouth first.

"Of course I was. I always am," he replied narcissistically. "You are going to have to be a bit more specific than that, I'm afraid."

I shook my head at him. Such an inflated ego he had. And I wasn't going to help deflate it this time.

"I think you ruined sex with other men for me," I stated.

His lips stretched in a self-satisfied smile. Damn smug bastard.

"Hmm. I'd rather think so. Nobody could be better than a Dark Lord, realistically," he reasoned.

I rolled my eyes internally at his behaviour. Typical.

"Should I go see the two or three others lurking around somewhere on this planet to have the complete 'Dark Lord experience', then?" I teased him.

He glared at me.

"Brat, shut up and sleep," he commanded.

"Yes, my Lord." I replied in mock obedience, nodding sharply at him like his Death Eaters had done to me earlier.

The look in his face was priceless. Smugness and Self-Satisfaction with capital letters.

"Dream on, Voldie." I shot him to deflate his ego a bit before settling against him again and closing my eyes. I felt a twitch of annoyance course through the bond, but I didn't pay too much attention to it.

I felt like I had won the Muggle lottery. A lazy smile stretched my face as I fell asleep contentedly.

* * *

.

Longest chapter to date! There's a lot of stuff in here, including: Neville, quitting the Rebels? Harry, taking direct action against them? An eventual planned attack on the Rebel Camp? Harry's leadership skills? Crouch? And, lastly, the evolving relationship between Harry and Voldemort.

Tell me what you thought of it! Thank you in advance! :)


	33. Chapter 33

I don't own Harry Potter.

Yayyy! 800 reviews! Wow! You guys are awesome! I never thought my story would be so popular so quickly! Thank you so much for your support! :D

To my guest reviewers:

Boblove321: The Dark Lord won't need any other incentives to claim what is 'rightfully his' now. And I nearly wrote a comment about how you shouldn't drink juice while reading it. I am glad you survived it :P

autumngold: Neville doesn't know what Harry is negotiating. He thinks that Harry is only going to help them get out of the Camp and find them a place to live. He doesn't know that Harry was in such close contact with the Dark Lord. As for the latter getting bored, well, Harry will have to keep it interesting then, right? ;)

FanFiction Lover: Here, hear, have some more slash in this chapter. Hopefully you won't need Chibi!FFL to revive you this time though ;)

ariana: Yes, Crouch was trying to seduce Harry, but he didn't know that Harry was already with the Dark Lord or he would probably have stayed away. He's not suicidal, after all. ^^'

BlackSnowKitten: Thank you for your nice comments! Your review was a real boost for my self-esteem as a writer :D

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On with the show!

Warning: Graphic slash, beginning of the chapter, broken from the rest for those who want to skip it.

* * *

Chapter 33: 5th of November 1997: An Unusual Deal

The next morning, my muscles were deliciously sore when I woke up. I felt a thrill of fear pass through me when I didn't feel his arm around me unlike usual.

I guessed that it was late in the morning and that he had already left for another busy day dealing with the repercussions of the bomb. Apparently, the Muggles hadn't believed him as easily as he had hoped and they suspected that something was amiss. The Dark Lord, on his side, thought that some of them could have fomented the coup with the Rebels, so the tension was running high at the Ministry at the moment.

I sighed silently.

_What did I expect after such a bliss-filled night? That he would stay for a morning cuddle? The Dark Lord might care for me a bit, but he certainly doesn't love me..._

It was already surprising that he let me sleep next to him all the time. I would have pegged him for someone who threw his lovers out of his bed once they were done. I wondered if I would also be thrown out, now that he had 'claimed me as his', now that the thrill of the conquest would fade away and be replaced by routine and monotony.

Was I enough to satisfy the Dark Lord's desires? Somehow, I doubted it. But I wasn't going to let myself be discarded so easily. Maybe if I was a bit more pro-active, now that I was a bit more at ease with the process...

I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings, or I would have noticed that his magic was still swirling around us. As it was, I jerked in surprise when I felt an arm pull me suddenly against a warm chest and a face bury itself in the crook of my neck. I gasped, feeling arousal build up in my chest at the contact with the warm naked body behind me. I licked my lips before turning my head around to look at him. He was watching me closely, perhaps trying to find out how I was feeling.

I sent him a small smile because he was still there and obviously wanted me, if the hardness I could feel pressed against my butt was anything to go by.

"Good morning," I said to him, my voice roughened by sleep.

His eyes softened and his lips quirked up in a smirk.

"I know ways to make this an even better morning..." he said while rotating his hips in a skilled move.

"I can think of a few of them too," I replied, smirking at him before putting my new strategy in action and deciding to act first for once.

.

I turned around to face him and climbed up on my knees quickly. He lied down on his back, looking at me as if intrigued to see what I would do. I straddled him and lunged for his mouth in a passionate kiss. His hands came up to rest on my hips, slowly caressing the skin there in small circles.

I kissed him for a while, relishing in the sensation of our tongues dancing together and our bodies rubbing against each other.

After a short while, though, I broke the kiss and started to head south, kissing and nipping at his throat, stopping to circle my tongue around a nipple while playing with the other before I continued down, licking and kissing my way down his sides and climbing back up toward the middle of his stomach when I reached his hipbone. I playfully dipped my tongue in his belly button as I let my fingers run up and down on his thighs.

By then, I could feel his hardness poke at my throat and his breath sounded a bit shaky.

He hadn't reacted like that when I had tentatively explored his body for the first times, perhaps because then, he was guiding me through it, easing me in the experience and controlling it completely. Now, it was completely my own initiative and I could see that my boldness aroused him. I decided to spice things up by trying something new. I had been working on directing my magic through my hands like he had done before, but now I tried to make it seep through my tongue as I moved downwards to the turgid flesh.

He nearly shouted in surprise when I took him in my mouth in one movement, my magic swirling around in my mouth and stroking him relentlessly as I bobbed up and down on his shaft.

The muscles of his legs contracted and he arched up from the mattress, panting. I felt empowered by his reactions. He had never reacted to what I did so obviously than he had now, and I somehow doubted that he had ever reacted like that with some previous lovers either. It didn't go with the usually cold and unfeeling façade he showed the world around him.

I hummed in approval around him when I heard his breath come out more harshly and felt his fists tighten in my hair after what felt like a few minutes of ministrations. From the feedback I got from the link, I knew he was close and I felt nearly dizzy with my arousal and the sensations travelling through the bond. I sneaked a hand down to take care of my problem and I heard him growl "Don't you dare touch it" before he pulled me away from my work and up to his lips, kissing me and biting my lips ferociously.

"Climb up" he ordered me in a husky and rough voice before I sensed some spells preparing and stretching me. I straddled him quickly; eager to try out a new position, and one that allowed me an illusion of control over him. He gripped my hips tightly and lowered me on him slowly. I pushed his hands away and glared at him a bit before slamming my hips down and impaling myself quickly.

The burning feeling I got was worth it because I got to see the Dark Lord's surprised and breathless facial expression before he controlled it and smirked up at me. I didn't know why he was smirking, but I wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face so I started moving, rotating my hips in an imitation of the movement he had followed the day before.

He grabbed my hips tightly and responded to my movement by shoving his hips up rhythmically.

The slight pain that I felt from my hasty decision faded away after he hit that right spot in me. Sweet pressure boiled up in me and travelled through our bond. My eyes shut close reflectively and I was lost in a sea of sensations. The colours were swirling under my eyelids and I wondered how our magic would look like at the moment. I opened my eyes and looked around us with difficulty, fighting the distraction that each of our harsh thrusts brought.

It was beautiful. His midnight blue magic twined and stroked at my emerald-green. I had never been able to see my magic so vividly before. it was mixed with his seamlessly and wrapped loosely around our bodies, isolating us for the rest of the world temporarily.

I felt a hand grabbed my chin and pull my attention back to him. He pulled me down to him in an aggressive kiss that left me breathless. I focused back on my movements and on feeling him moving inside of me. I renewed my efforts to keep up with him.

I thought fleetingly that I preferred when he was in control. He must have caught that thought because he returned to his smug smile of earlier. His magic rose with his amusement and I felt momentarily cowed by just how powerful the man below me was. I responded to the implicit challenge, rising and lowering myself at a breathless pace while he was thrust more vigorously than ever.

It felt as if we were competing against another, trying to outdo the other in a duel of flesh, sweat and pleasure.

It didn't take long before we reached completion, the climax of one provoked by the other's own.

I slumped on him, still sheathed, my head resting against his collarbone. His hands came up to caress the skin of my back, as usual, while we were catching our breath.

.

o0o0o

"Hum...Good morning, indeed. You're going to feel that for days, you know?" he informed me.

"Ah, that's why you were smirking at me earlier... 'twas worth it" I replied, sending him his smirk back before rotating my hips forward slightly. His breathing hitched slightly and I felt him twitch inside of me. He grabbed my hips to still them.

"Cheeky brat. Had I known you'd be so insolent, I would have thought twice before bedding you."

I snorted at him.

"Ha! Yeah, right! You get off on it; you know it. You wouldn't have chosen me if you wanted someone meek and obedient.

-Hmm," hummed the Dark Lord neutrally. "Perhaps you are right. It's not without its advantages. That magically infused tongue of yours was a brilliant invention, I'll admit as much."

I pulled myself up, smiling at him widely at the concession.

"Thanks. It was a flash of genius from my part, I know," I told him, teasingly imitating how he tended to describe himself, the narcissist.

He barked a laugh. He definitely was in a good mood this morning.

"Ha! You are quite the cheeky brat. That's going to be your nickname from this day forth, I hope you like it because you will hear it often," he informed me.

I grinned at him.

"It's better than 'My little Horcrux' anyway...What, you thought I didn't hear you say it yesterday? Come on, you used to whisper it in Parseltongue all the time," I told him when I saw his eye widen at my admission.

"Ah, yes, this delightful little ability of yours you hid from me for so long. I feel like I should be offended by that, by the way, but I'm too delighted that you show yet another sign that you belong to me," he told me with a sly smirk.

I snorted at him again. Possessive bastard. I let it pass for the moment. I suddenly had an idea.

"You know, you have those nicknames for me, but I don't have any for you. Maybe I should find you a new one. Voldie is funny, but I get the feeling you'd want to pull my head off if I say it in front of your followers..."

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

"I'm not sure I approve of this whole nickname thing. I am the Dark Lord; I'm not nicknameable, I'm afraid, not even for you."

I scoffed at him playfully, dismissing what he said.

"However should I call you anyway? It's been months and I still call you 'you' and 'Voldemort' and, come on, I'm not going to call my mommy-soul and my lover 'Flight from Death'.

-Did you really say 'mommy-soul'? That sounds horribly cheesy and incestuous in this context. And, for your information, Voldemort means 'Deathly Flight'. There's a notable difference. I'm not afraid of death; I'm deathly.

-I'm still not calling you that. How about your real name? Can I call you Tom?" I said, curious. His face immediately twisted in a sneer of disgust.

"Absolutely not. I hate that name. It would make me want to vomit every time you said it."

I felt my eyebrows lift at his categorical refusal and extreme reaction. He looked at me and sighed.

"You may call me Marvolo," He conceded, as if it pained him.

"Your middle name? Okay..." I tilted my head a bit to the side and looked at him. "It kind of suits you, really."

He sighed again.

"The things I do for you..." he said in an exasperated tone.

I snorted. We fell in a comfortable silence for a moment, drifting in our own thoughts. I had the impression that I wanted to ask him something, but couldn't remember what. Suddenly, it clicked. I lifted my head off his chest again while I asked him.

"Ah! Yes! What did you think of my plan in the end? Do you accept the deal?"

-The deal was that you would work with us to reveal the rebel camp's location for a guarantee that we won't hurt those who don't resist and for unrestricted access to your vaults, right?" he summed up efficiently.

I nodded at him from where I was sitting on his stomach. It felt a bit weird to do a negotiation in our bed, without clothes on, but somehow, I thought this worked better than in a formal setting. It felt more honest and candid this way.

"Do you want to participate in the raid we will do on the camp, or will you only go there and play witness after the wards are down?" he asked me.

I thought about it for a while. If I did take part, I'd have to fight against the people with whom I grew up. On the other hand, if I did, I could monitor the Death Eaters better and minimise casualties by incapacitating some of the Rebels without killing them. It would also make Neville and the others more at ease with surrendering...maybe.

"Yeah, I think I'll participate, if that's fine with you.

-It will be violent," he warned, as if I hadn't known that already.

"I can handle it. They have gone too far with the bomb. They deserve it...I don't want them massacred uselessly, though. Those who will surrender should go to jail for their crimes," I stated firmly, as if that would help convince him.

"Many say that Azkaban is a worse sentence than death," the Dark Lord pointed out.

"Maybe. And I would prefer if they were just in a normal prison without Dementors, but I know that magical prisoners are difficult to control and that they need the creatures to keep them down and without the ability to plan an escape."

The Dark Lord hummed in agreement with my explanation, the back of his hand idly caressing my hip and the outside on my leg, his eyes sweeping over my body while he thought. I swallowed. Merlin, even after yesterday, and this morning, I couldn't get over it. Having the Dark Lord's attention, seeing him look at me like that, it was both overwhelming (although I was getting better at that) and arousing. I felt my cock twitch in interest.

I shook my head to force myself to focus back on the conversation.

"So, the deal?" I asked him.

He quirked up one side of his mouth in a small smirk.

"It's the first time I conclude a deal with a naked young man sitting on my stomach. I must say that I prefer this to the usual office setting. Perhaps we should make a habit of negotiating only after we are sexually satisfied. It would make us both more relaxed and less prone to fits of temper, after all."

There he went again with his research and analysis applied on daily matters. I shook my head at him. _Unbelievable._ He was right about something, however. I did think there would be more arguing when I thought of the deal I wanted to suggest. This negotiation felt comfortable and safe.

He spoke up again.

"I accept, as long as you promise not to withhold any knowledge during the planning that could be important for the raid, no matter how much you think it might get you in a negotiation setting. I'm not going to barter with you for ever scrap of information," he said in a firm tone.

I nodded solemnly.

"I agree, it wouldn't be fair and it would quickly become annoying," I said, extending my hand to him to seal the deal.

He took his hand off my hip and shook mine firmly. I felt our magic rise and settle in witness to our agreement. I sent a small smile at the Dark Lord.

"So, how about a shower?" he asked with a perverted grin on his face.

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead and climbed off the bed to stand at its side.

"In there? How would that work?" I asked, surprised.

"Ah, my little Horcrux, I still have so much to teach you..." He said, getting up and passing a hand through my hair. I closed my eyes at the feeling and stifled a moan when I felt him embrace me and his hands wander lower.

He chuckled at my reaction.

"Okay...Marvolo," I said, opening one eye to check how he'd react to me using his name. I think I would always think of his as 'the Dark Lord', but I did need some form of address for him, after all this time. His eyes turned contemplative before he sent me a small smile and pulled me towards his bathroom.

Something told me I'd never see a shower in the same way every again.

.

o0o0o

That evening, in an abandoned warehouse in Liverpool.

"No! If you think we're ever doing anything for you again, you are out of your mind! You're just as bad as the Dark Lord!" was the reply the old Auror got to his question.

"Sacrifices were necessary to win the conflict and you are both equally responsible for what happened at the Ministry. You made the bomb, after all," he answered calmly.

"You told us you weren't going to target civilians! We've read the news! Seventy deaths; 8 Light Purebloods, 19 Half Bloods and 43 Muggleborns! Was that what you intended to do? Kill everyone who isn't dark and then blow the whole country up?" shouted the other twin.

He shook his head in exasperation.

"Boys, you know this wasn't what I intended the bomb to do. It was an unfortunate accident. I was targeting Voldemort and his elite who were all nicely gathered at the Ministry. I couldn't have known that the damn Dark Lord would put up some nasty wards that would make it rebound. Dark wards, probably," he replied in a pacifying tone. He might still be able to use them if he could reason with them.

"But even if it had worked, there were still lots of civilians at the ceremony! They weren't just Dark people there, but the whole higher tier of Ministry workers too! Our dad could have been there! He was invited! You could have killed him, you bastard!"

He thought for a few seconds before turning around to hide a smirk at his perfect answer.

"You mean that you two would have killed him. Don't try to exonerate yourself from any responsibility in this matter. You knew I lied about not targeting civilians but you still did the bomb. You must have also had an idea of how I would use it, considering that your father conveniently missed the annual Samhain ceremony for the first time since its instalment," he argued, slowly shaking his head and tut-tutting in mock disappointment.

"Boys, boys. What would your mother say if she learnt that you were the one behind the Ministry attack? I think she would be very disappointed in you...I wonder if poor Charlie would be happy of how far you've taken your wish for revenge?"

One of the redheads lunged at him, only to be held back by his twin.

"You! You lied to us! We will not work with you ever again!" shouted one of them.

"It's too late for you to stop now, I'm afraid. You have no one to turn to. Do not think for a moment that anybody else would sympathise with you. The minute you confide in them, you will be arrested or killed. And if the Dark Lord lets you live, how would you avenge your precious brother's death in prison?" he mocked them.

"Face it, boys, you are tied to me now. And if you try to betray me, I will have some of my trusted ally bring in some proof of your involvement in the bomb incident...Your family's fate was already put in a precarious balance after your brother's allegiance to Dumbledore was revealed. I don't think that they would survive the blow, should it be known that you were partly responsible for the attack on the Ministry..." He left them a few seconds to think of his words, before attacking again.

"So, what is it going to be, then?" he growled, his lips curling as he took in their reaction.

They both looked at him, betrayal shining in their identical eyes. They turned to look at each other and, after a few seconds, nodded together before turning back to him, resigned.

_Perfect. I got them where I want them. I wonder if my precious new ally could give me more of this interesting technology. After all, even if it did backfire, the damage was impressive.. I'd have to lure the demon out of his den and his precious wards to put him down for good, though. I wonder which bait I could use..._

As he left his new puppets to whisk up a plan, he never noticed the sly smirks gracing the twins' faces.

Retaliation would come in due time for all those who dared to try manipulate their devious minds.

.

o0o0o

Severus was striding through the corridors of Hogwarts, impatiently returning from a staff meeting. It was absurd that even him, the Headmaster of the school, was not able to Apparate within the wards. He wondered idly how much money he'd have to pay to buy himself a Phoenix, like Dumbledore had had.

The truth was that he probably would be able to Apparate if he just accepted the mantle of Headmaster whole-heartedly. Part of him, however, refused to consider that he deserved such an honour.

He was the only Death Eater, at the end of the war, who had experience teaching at the school. That was the only reason why he had been nominated. Not because he was kind and compassionate enough to deal with the students (he snorted to himself at such a delusionary thought), but because of the tattoo on his forearm that he had loathed more than anything in his life..._apart from the word 'Mudblood', probably..._ he thought before strengthening his Occlumency shields to keep those painful memories at bay.

It had been years since Her death, and she had come back to haunt him in the form of the Potter brat. The flamboyant red hair no longer framed the hauntingly beautiful eyes, but they were still the exact same shade of green. A colour he had never seen in anyone else before and thought he never would again. But they were there in her son's face, reminding him of his lost love, of his bad choices every time he saw him.

Try as he might to hate Potter's son, all he could see when he looked at him was Lily's presence in his features. Harry (for he had at some point started to think of him as such) even had the same glint of enthusiasm sometimes when he got a difficult brewing technique right, just like she had. Every time it happened, it sparked a twin reaction of pain and affection in him. It reminded him of the oath he had sworn to Dumbledore grudgingly, to protect the Potter brat despite all odds.

He hadn't planned for feeling naturally protective of Lily's son, as if Harry was his own, nearly.

He hadn't planned for the brat to voluntarily show up and place his head on a platter for the Dark Lord.

He hadn't planned for his only remaining Master to be interested in something else than killing Lily's son.

He shuddered slightly, alone in the drafty corridors, when he thought of the conversation he had with Lucius recently. His old friend had taken him aside after one of their reunions and brought him back to his Manor. He had sat him and served him his strongest brandy, before telling him of what he had learnt of the...'arrangement', as Harry had put it, between his pupil and his Master. He had been suitably horrified. It could not end well. Surely, the boy was delusional if he thought he could get out of that twisted obsessional 'arrangement' intact. Severus could only hope that the Dark Lord would loose interest in Harry quickly, before the brat could try to leave, and fail. And realise that he was trapped.

Somehow, when he thought of the possessive glint that sometimes entered his Master's eyes when Severus would go to report Harry's progress to him, he doubted that the Dark Lord would get bored as quickly as usual. And that worried him. When he had sworn to protect the brat, it wasn't what he had in mind, by Morgana!

_Lily_, he implored mentally, _give me the strength to persevere in my task. Forgive me for my past mistakes and help me, for your son's sake if not for mine._

.

A muffled voice reached his distracted mind. He spotted the closed door of an empty classroom. The sounds were coming from there. A cold smirk appeared on his face when he thought of catching students out after curfew. He had missed the simple pleasures of terrorising students since his tenure as the Headmaster. He no longer had the time to roam the corridors at night and relish in the panicked screams his sudden appearance would cause.

He would indulge his penchant tonight, if only to get rid of this morose state he felt he was in.

"Let me go! I have to do this!" said the shrilly voice of a girl. He approached the door silently, casting an Eavesdropping charm on it to evaluate the situation and Disillusioning himself. He had no intention to take them _in flagrante delicto_ and get an eyeful of prepubescent children who had no business taking part in such activities. He hadn't when he was at Hogwarts, so he didn't see why others should.

"No, you'll get killed if you do that, don't!" replied the deeper voice of a male student.

It didn't sound like the usual tryst. Severus didn't like how it sounded like the boy was restraining the girl fighting against his grip. He would intervene if it degenerated.

"I have to. Don't you realise it was my entire fault if those people died? Your father could have been killed!

-I am not going to let you denounce yourself to Snape if that's what you are saying. You weren't there at the Ministry that day. You were here the whole time. You never killed anybody," said the boy in a firm voice.

Severus was now more than intrigued. The Ministry? Could they talking about the bomb? Was the culprit in the room next to him?

"You don't understand! I might not have been there that day, but it's still my fault! I gave him the idea! I was talking, and talking, and I let it slip just how easy it was to make an explosion with just a few ingredients and I saw it, I saw it in his eyes. It was like a fire had started in his eyes. He looked crazy! He would never have had this idea if it weren't for me. Don't you see it now?" pleaded the girls' voice.

So they were talking about the bomb, then. This was vital information on the rebels. He should probably barge in the room and take over the interrogation. As it was, this could be a spy for the rebels, in his territory, nonetheless! It was unacceptable!

The girl had started sobbing now. Her cries were muffled by something, probably by the boy's chest, or his shoulder. How moving.

"It's not your fault if someone interprets your words in a bad way. You had nothing to do with the attack on the Ministry. Mad-Eye is mad, after all, he would probably have had the idea without you saying anything. It's not your fault," said the boy reassuringly.

In a sense, the boy had a point. The use of Muggle technology might have happened sooner or later, even without the output of the girl in the room. However, if she was in contact with Moody, then she probably was with the Rebels and, as such, partially responsible for the actions of the side she decided to support.

"Come on, Hermione, there's nothing you can do about it now. It's in the past. Let's go back to our rooms and sleep on it," cajoled the boy.

Something clicked in Severus's mind. On the other side of this door was Hermione MacMillan, Muggleborn and Gryffindor overachiever extraordinaire: A brilliant student that might be able to have a bright future despite her lowly birth in a regime that oppressed those of her kind. His neck bent forward and his forehead came to rest against the cool stone of the corridor, a few steps beside the door of the classroom.

Severus could understand why a Muggleborn would oppose the current government. She would probably have as well. She would have risen against the crowds, Her fiery red hair shining in sun, Her fist brandished against the injustice; fighting for what was right, instead of accepting resignedly the imposed order. Her emerald eyes would have flashed in indignation. She would have been the standard bearer of the Rebellion, had She still been alive.

Severus' eyes closed as he pictured Her, full of life and righteous fury; a small warmth lit up in his chest as he allowed himself to think about how She would have looked, about how he still desired and loved Her, after all these years. In a moment of absurd fragility, he pictured himself fighting the injustice at Her side; their hands joined as they faced the impossible task of reforming the regime. But they would never give up, because they had each other to lean on for the rest of their life...

By the time he got himself back to his miserably lonely reality, the classroom was long deserted and he felt impossibly worse than he had for years.

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* * *

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So, the deal is concluded and Harry will participate to the eventual raid on the Rebels, the twins are trying to get out of Moody's influence and we discover that Hermione was the one crying a few chapters ago. Will Severus denounce her to the Dark Lord?

Thank you in advance for reviewing!


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Happy belated Easter everybody! :D (For those who celebrate it) Thank you to everybody who reviewed this story! You guys are such a wonderful support! You are the ones who push me forward and make me continue to write! Thank you! :D

To my guest reviewers:

Boblove321: Reading this story seems to not be conducive to a healthy long life for you. With that said, I did like the image of your little brother approaching the computer and you vaguely hiding the screen from him and saying you are reading about puppies and so on. :P And I think we both know what happened in the shower ;)

deby magid: I think that the fact that Harry doesn't wear glasses anymore and that he isn't a Gryffindor did help Severus to detach him for his father's image. And I think that Moody isn't crazy as such; he's more ruthless and apply the expression 'desperate times call for desperate measures' way too seriously.

ariana: The Dark Lord's regime isn't good or bad per se. It has made improvements on many levels (standards of education, corruption in the government, increased international trade, etc.), but has imposed strict policies and laws on other such as...limiting the freedom of press and of expression to a certain extent, official discrimination based on blood status in the Ministry's employment criteria, and all other sorts of things that Harry only vaguely knows about. We will see more of it in this chapter, you will see. Snape's position is as ambiguous and unknown as it was in the books. Concerning Hermione, I am not sure I understood exactly what you meant, but I will only say that she is now aware that Moody manipulated her to a certain extent and whether she chooses to continue with him, or to denounce herself, she won't be as naive as she used to be, at least.

FanFiction Lover: Could the three people able to manipulate the twins be Harry, Voldemort and Severus? Sorry for the Severus angst, by the way. He was just particularly emotional in that moment and will go back to his snarky self next time he appears, I assure you. ;)

lovely guest: I think that Severus will thread carefully and not try anything too rash. He's always been adept at justifying his actions and decisions to the Dark Lord, after all. Whatever he will do will be with Harry (and Lily) in mind, I'd say. Will Harry meet Hermione? They are both in completely separate situations at the moment, but maybe they will. It should be an interesting meeting ;)

Ashleigh: Thank you! I hope that you will like this chapter as well! :D

EmeraldEyed: Huzzah! Another one! Rejoice! ;)

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Chapter 34: 18th of November 1997: OWLs

Two weeks of hard work, of cramming sessions with a Remus who seemed strangely distracted and of highly satisfying nights later, I was standing in front of a Ministry official of the Wizarding Examinations Authority in my best clothes (at least according to Draco who had ordered me by owl to wear them to impress the examiner), ready at last for tests I should have taken two years ago.

The Ministry official had to be sworn to secrecy before she could make me pass my examinations. The Dark Lord and Lucius had arranged it for me. If it wasn't that I hadn't even planned on taking those tests in my life, I would be incredibly grateful for the arrangement.

As it was, having OWLs would never be a negative thing, especially now that the Duel was mostly a moot point. I just had to forfeit. But I didn't want to, not yet at least. I suspected that repressed fears and insecurities were at the origin of my reluctance. There was still a part of me that thought the Dark Lord was playing a game with me. He hadn't hesitated to lie to me once, after all; It wouldn't be that surprising if he did it again. Just because I was his Horcrux didn't mean he was sincere in his affection.

The elderly witch in front of me cleared her throat to catch my attention. She was tiny and stooped, but looked very strict. Lucius had told me that she was the Head of the Examinations Authority and that she had been there for decades.

"My name is Griselda Marchbanks and I will be giving you your examinations in the next few days, Mister Potter...I must admit that I am surprised to see you here today, given that you are quite old for only passing your OWLs, and given who set up the appointment for these tests. Therefore, I'm afraid that, before we can start, I am obligated to ask you whether you are here on your own will," she asked with a grim voice and a stern face.

"Yes, I am," I replied seriously. It was an important question to ask, as the circumstances were unusual, to say the least. Not many people knew of my deal with the Dark Lord, after all.

"Very well, we will start with your Defence and Charms exam, both the practical and the theory today. Transfiguration and History will be tomorrow, Potions and Herbology the day after. Astronomy will be given at night in two days time. And...we will finish with Warding in three days as well. Is that right?" she asked me, looking up from her schedule to watch me closely.

I nodded. I didn't know if I felt nervous or not. It was my first official exam in my life, but Defence was my best subject and should be easy enough for me. I idly wondered if Marvolo hadn't set it first on purpose to put me at ease, before deciding that he probably hadn't spent that much effort on such an unimportant detail.

"Any questions before we begin?

-Yes, I was wondering whether you prefer me to perform the spells silently or to enunciate them," I asked her.

She lifted a grey eyebrow at my question.

"Non-verbal spells are part of the NEWTs curriculum. However, no point will be deducted if you use them in your OWLs. On the contrary, you might get bonus points if you succeed in casting the spells required non-verbally," she recited as if she was textbook.

I nodded, reassured. I had been doing my spells silently ever since I was fifteen. By now, it would nearly require more effort on my part to remember to enunciate them than simply casting non-verbally.

"We will start the practical part of your Defense examinations now, if you don't have any other questions?

-No, that's fine. Thank you," I answered, straightening up and taking my wand out, ready for what was coming.

.

o0o0o

What followed was the easiest test I had ever taken in my life. When the people at the Rebel Camp used to tell me that I was above NEWTs level in Defence, I had trouble believing them, thinking that they only wanted to encourage me. However, now, I could see what they meant. I was nearly yawning in boredom at the easy questions. Only politeness kept me from manifesting signs of it, but I could see that Madam Marchbanks realised how basic this was for me.

After a while, she asked:

"For bonus points, can you perform a Patronus charm for me?"

_Does she think that was any more difficult than the rest? Why can't she give me someone to duel? That would be more interesting and interactive, at least,_ I thought, while lazily waving my wand, conjuring feelings of happiness.

It was easy, I just thought of the softness in Marvolo's eyes that he sometimes got when he looked at me. It always made me smile when I thought of it, even now, in front of the examiner.

What came out of my wand was a shock, however.

Instead of my usual Patronus, the proud stag, a deathly looking huge snake slithered from my wand unto the ground, hissing and searching around for a threat. A Basilisk. My Patronus had become a bloody Basilisk. I knew what a change in Patronus meant, but I refused to acknowledge it in front of the elderly lady. I'd probably crumble in a little ball and lose myself in deep dark thoughts if I did. This wasn't good. This really wasn't good for me...

The sound of someone clapping brought me out of my stupor. Madam Marchbanks looked delighted, if not a bit disturbed by the snake.

"Well, Mister Potter, that was quite impressive! I must say, if you know all your subjects as well as this one, you won't have much trouble with your OWLs; not at all, in fact!"

I shook my head in regret.

"I'm afraid, Madam, that Defense is by far my best subject," I confessed to her.

"Oh, well, it's alright, young man. I am sure that you will do fine regardless. Shall we move on to the theory exam, then?" she asked, directing me to a desk in a corner of the room.

The written exam was nearly as laughable as the practical one. I must have made a couple of grammar mistakes, though, and my hand was cramping badly toward the end. Writing had never been my forte, to be honest.

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o0o0o

In the next few days, I breathed examinations and last-minute revisions. Since my Warding exam was last, I wasn't free to relax until it was completely over. I really didn't know what to expect of that exam. It wasn't a standard OWL examination, but an optional one recently introduced.

Since the subject was not taught at Hogwarts ("not yet, at least", had said Severus who had been trying to find an adequate teacher for years now), not a lot of students took it.

As it so happened, I had read enough of books in the last few months for my personal interest and played with wards often enough both with the Rebels and by myself, for the test to be quite easy.

My examiner for that subject was a redhead that made me think of the twins that owned the joke shop. His name was Bill Weasley and he was a lot younger than Madam Marchbanks. He also gave me strange looks at the beginning of the test. He must have recognised my name on his evaluation sheet. Thankfully, he had also been sworn to secrecy. He had soon relaxed, however, and became really animated when we started the practical and he saw that I knew what I was doing.

We ended up debating the best ward-breaking techniques on core of wards after the exam when I let it slip that I had played with the Ministry wards.

He gasped in surprise before frowning at me, as if he suddenly didn't know what to say.

"Euh...it was done with the authorisation of the Dark Lord," I explained, in case he still thought I was a Rebel that was planning something against the Ministry.

I thought that maybe this was part of why he felt so ill at ease at the beginning of the examination.

"What could possibly have made him show you the core of the Ministry wards?" he asked in an incredulous tone of voice.

"Ah, well, it was during the Ministry attack on Halloween, you know, and he needed the Anti-Apparition Wards down temporarily because the Floo network didn't work and everybody were stuck in the building..." I answered, trying to sum it up quickly to end the awkward moment.

I must not have done well, because Bill suddenly looked very ill at ease again, and perhaps a bit angry.

"So you helped him," he said in a flat voice.

"Of course I did, there were innocent people stuck in the Ministry! Children that were at the reception! What kind of monster would I be to stand aside and not do anything when I had the capacity to help?"

Bill clenched his fists and looked away from me.

"What kind of monsters would let injustice and blatant racism go without trying to change anything? What kind of monsters would Obliviate all Muggleborns, brainwash them to turn them into proper little Purebloods and still discriminate them because of their blood status?" he hissed through his clenched teeth before continuing in a barely audible voice. "What kind of monsters would kill an innocent boy barely out of Hogwarts just because he dared raise his voice against this wonderful regime?" he said vehemently.

I had a feeling he had forgotten my presence, or he probably wouldn't have said those things in front of me. Or maybe he did say them precisely because I was there.

"Why are you telling me this? Why are you trying to achieve? Are you not afraid that I would denounce you?" I questioned.

He huffed at my statement, but calmed down.

"You're too goody-two-shoes to denounce someone just because they expressed an opinion against this regime. Or at least, you used to be. But maybe, being surrounded by all those snakes changed you," he challenged, his eyes connecting with mine.

I frowned at him.

_Have__ I ever met him? Does he know me personally?_ I wondered.

I didn't remember ever seeing him, however.

"I don't think I have changed. But I would report you if I thought you had anything to do with the Ministry attack," I warned him.

He shook his head negatively.

"We didn't. I didn't. Not everyone is as extreme as Moody is. But I'm part of a group called 'Equity for All'. It seeks equal rights for every sentient being; no matter your race or the purity of your blood...Did you know that Muggleborns in this world have a very limited range of jobs they can hold? And that they can never rise above a certain level in the Ministry, no matter their competence or the quality of their work? Did you know that they aren't even allowed to know their family names? They are nicknamed 'the nameless' unless a Pureblood family deigns to adopt them...We aren't doing anything illegal; we are just trying to change things so that everyone has the same chances. This regime is supposed to be big on equality between races, but it encourages a lot of prejudices to foster with its unfair laws," he pointed out, sounding more positive now that he was talking of his group.

I looked at him considerately. It didn't sound that bad of a movement. It sounded better than Moody's, anyway, and it seemed to bring up some of the points the Rebels were protesting against, but in a peaceful way. If such a movement could get official recognition, it could eventually lead to the implementation of a more democratic system.

"And what are you doing, concretely, for change?" I challenged him.

"Some of us are lawyers, or are studying to become attorneys and we are drafting up new regulations and defending the less fortunate in unfair trials. Others are raising funds for a charity designed to offer support to Muggleborns without patronage. We also try to make them reconnect with their origins by teaching them Muggle sciences and culture," he explained, enthusiasm now colouring his voice. What he just said made me a bit weary though.

"You are not...exposing our world to the Muggle one, right? Because that could be dangerous and I'm pretty sure the Dark Lord would chase you down and kill you personally if you did," I warned him carefully, thinking of the talk I had had with the Marvolo about the dangers of Muggle technology.

I wondered if I hadn't stumbled on something important. This group sounded nice, peaceful and promoting good values, but could they possibly be at the origin of the bomb that fell on the Ministry?

"Of course we aren't. We aren't responsible for the Bomb either. I know what you were thinking about. We are not a terrorist organisation; we are a peaceful and faceless, for the moment at least, opposition to the government. We'd get out there and be an official political party if we thought we could survive it, but the Dark Lord would probably shut us down if we did that," he explained.

I brought a hand up to stroke my chin in thought. This was interesting. Could it be the side I was searching for all this time? The one that would really represent my convictions? The Dark Lord had tried to shield me from most of the bad aspects of his regime, but really, I knew too much already to think that his government was perfect, or conform to my ideals. He would probably never allow it to become a democracy, but this movement looked like it was doing a world of good on its own.

"Anyway, Harry. You look like a good guy. You're just kinda stuck in a bad place. Don't let yourself become like those around you. If you're interested in meeting us, just give me a dring," he said with a friendly wink.

"A what?" I asked, puzzled.

"A dring. It's a Muggle expression," he said with a knowing smile.

I tried to think back on my experience in the Muggle world but couldn't remember such an word.

" 'Means call me. Here's the Floo address. We meet every Wednesday afternoon," he explained, handing me over a small card.

I took it without thinking and slipped it in my backpack, but I really didn't know what to do with it. It's not as if I could Floo call from the Dark Lord's Fortress. The man was probably paranoid enough to have his Floo system monitored and I knew that my comings and goings didn't escape him either. Not to mention that I wasn't sure what to think of this whole thing. It could quite easily be a trap.

"Err...I'll think about it, but don't expect me to come any soon. I don't know if I'm interested yet," I warned him.

"You'll keep that card, though? Just come by whenever you feel you need to take a break from all the gloominess. I'm taking a huge risk here; I hope you realise it. Don't go snitching on us, right?" he said, with another easy smile. He didn't look too worried. That alone made me concerned.

"Right, right. I'll keep it in mind. Err..Is that all? With the examination, I mean?" I asked absent-mindedly.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. You did brilliantly, by the way. I was quite impressed. Where did you find your info on the double twist-n-pull corner technique? I never saw that anywhere...

-Errr...the Magical Library? I don't remember the title of the book, though...It was kinda old, with yellow parchment and a dark blue jacket?" I answered tentatively. I wasn't about to tell him that I read it from a book in the Dark Lord's personal cathedral of a library, even if Bill did do a couple of allusions on the fact that I was 'living among snakes' or whatnot. I wondered how he knew all that stuff about me. It was a bit worrying, even if I didn't think he'd use it against me, or anything of the kind.

"Alright! I'll keep an eye open for that book, then. Goodbye, Harry. It was nice to meet you. I hope I'll see you soon at one of our meetings, ok?" he said with another relaxed wink and a friendly pat on my shoulder.

I followed him out of the examination room and started to head towards the Minister's Office. I had Flooed from there in the past days, since it was the only Floo fireplace with a permission to reach the Dark Lord's Fortress in the whole Ministry.

The other days, I had been too tired to give much notice to what was happening around me. Now that I only had one exam that day, and my final one at that, I was more lucid and was quite curious to observe the comings and goings around the Ministry.

Everybody was buzzing in and out of the offices in the Education Department. They looked very busy, even if it wasn't a traditional exam period.

I thought of Bill's words from earlier about the Muggleborns. Were they really that oppressed? I looked around, trying to spot Muggle elements in clothing, or hairstyle, or decorations. I didn't know much about those subjects, though, so the fact that I couldn't see any here didn't mean much. As far as I knew, that painting of a landscape could be Muggle...if one didn't take into account that there was a dragon lounging on the grass in the picture...Maybe not, then.

I really didn't know what to think of what Bill said. Or the Patronus thing. _Don't think about it. Now is not the time. Wait until you're home again._

I had successfully managed to ignore the subject for the past few days, immersing myself into my studies and examinations, but I could feel the locked thoughts rattling inside of my mind.

I accelerated my walk. Madam Marchbanks had told me the previous day that my results would come in a few weeks. I didn't have anything to do here anymore.

I entered the elevator and pushed the button for the level on which the Minister's Office was situated. A dozen of paper planes were flying above my head. I looked at them with a certain fondness, remembering how I used that concept to transmit my information to the Ministry about the Rebels.

People came in and out, exiting at different levels and throwing me bored or curious glances.

I had made sure to hide my scar with Muggle makeup everyday before I came to the Ministry. I really didn't want to know how people would react if they recognised me.

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o0o0o

When I arrived at Lucius' office, the secretary let me in without asking any questions. I didn't know who she thought I was, but she had seen me come and go for the past three days, so, by now, I guessed that she was used to my presence.

I arrived at the Lucius' door and knocked.

"Enter," I heard him say.

Inside, Crouch was there with him. They were probably in a meeting. Crouch's face lit up when he saw me. The Dark Lord was right; he was a bit obvious. I don't know how I didn't notice before. I guessed that the situation of being 'hit on' was too new for me to be able to recognise it.

"Hey Lucius, hello Mr. Crouch," I greeted them, the contrast in familiarity intentional.

Crouch got up from his seat energetically and came closer to me, his hand extended forward.

"Mister Potter! A real pleasure to see you again in a more...informal context," he said with a pleased smile.

_This is the Minister's Office. Is it really that informal?_ I thought, frowning at him a bit.

"It's nice to see you again, Mister Crouch," I answered politely, not really knowing how to deal with him.

I threw a pleading glance to Lucius when I shook the other man's hand. He lifted an eyebrow in response. Damn him. I turned my attention back to Crouch.

"I'm afraid I simply cannot let you call me Mister Crouch any longer. It makes me feel so old, even compared to Lucius, which you call by his given name! There really isn't any reason for such a formality. Call me Barty, please," he said, smiling warmly at me before looking down at my hand, which he was still holding in his.

When he started to graze its back with his thumb, I pulled my hand sharply out of his grasp. That handshake had lasted way too long.

"Barty, then. Okay," I said, nodding, before turning to Lucius and widened my eyes at him significantly.

The man hadn't helped me at all. He lifted an eyebrow back at me again, probably meaning that he thought I could deal with it by myself. I sighed a bit. He was right. I should be able to, but how do you respond to that kind of stuff anyway? It wasn't as if I could tell him that I was already with the Dark Lord. The latter would probably throttle me if he knew that I had already threatened his plans for a 'grand reveal' by letting Lucius know of our relationship.

"Well, I have to go back to the Dark Lord's place. He'll want to know how this last exam went," I said, not addressing the elephant in the room.

"He did seem to look forward to the completion of your exams, probably because we are all anxious to start planning the raid on the rebel camp after all those years of unfruitful attempts," suggested Lucius in a conciliatory tone and a perfect poker face. Damn the man and his poise in all situations. Even Draco would have been better to deal with that sort of things than me.

"Ah, yes. We will see what he says about that, but I guess I'll see you in a few days to start the planning. Until then, Lucius, Barty," I said, sending a small smile at the Minister and a short nod to the other. No reason to encourage his strange interest, after all.

"One moment, Harry, if you please," requested Lucius as I was just about to grab a handful of Floo powder. I turned back to him, an eyebrow lifted in question.

"Have you taken up origami again?" asked Lucius cryptically.

I frowned at him. Origami? Folding paper to create different forms?

"No...Why did you think I would?" I asked back, puzzled.

Crouch laughed a bit nervously. He looked relieved at my answer.

Lucius turned to his desk and picked up two creased sheets of paper I hadn't noticed before. He gave them to me and I read them, growing more and more puzzled after each word.

The first one read:

"_Do you crouch down like a tiger ready to pounce on a prey, or like a beggar searching for a haphazardly thrown Galleon in the dust of the roads?"_

The allusion to Crouch's last name was obvious, as was the irreverent tone.

I took the second one, which seemed to share the same characteristics.

"_Did you know that someone named a skeleton after you, Lucy? I can't decide if it is fitting an honour, or a humiliation worth your inflated ego. One thing is sure, if I were you, I'd watch that golden well-groomed mane of yours, lest I'd wake up to find it gone one day._"

This sounded dangerously like a threat. Why the animal allusion though? Why compare Lucius to a lion? Lions are considered typical of Gryffindor... and in the Muggle world, they were considered as the 'king of the animals'. Was this message a threat against Lucius' position as a Minister?

"We received these two notes in the form of paper planes similar to those you used a few months ago. I must confess I opened mine without scanning it first because I thought it was from you. To say that I was surprised and not a bit infuriated when it literally blew up in my face is an understatement," explained Lucius, before Crouch continued.

"I received mine about a week ago, but I didn't think too much of it before I saw a similar one on Lucius' desk today. I didn't even know you had been the one behind the original paper planes, Harry. It was ingenious of you really. My Aurors managed to capture a few Rebels and protect the population better with the information you gave us then. I must thank you for the assistance provided. I confess that I had grown a bit disgruntled at our mysterious ally in the Rebellion after this 'plane' dumped a dung bomb on my head when I scanned it for curses. I am happy to learn that it wasn't your doing," confessed Crouch with a fond smile on his face.

I sent him back a half-smile uneasily before I looked down at the messages again.

"Any idea of what is stands for?" I asked them seriously.

They looked up simultaneously from the notes with twin expressions of puzzlement on their face.

"What do you mean? It is merely a childish impression of discontent against government figures, isn't it?" asked Lucius.

I shook my head at them, unimpressed.

"It's too peculiar for that. There are a lot of hidden elements in those messages. It's like a code you have to crack. The reference to animals, for instance, is the first thing that drew my attention. Both also refer to gold, and to an eventual loss of wealth, or of position. The lion losing its mane is like a king losing his crown..." I said before I got lost in my thoughts and hypothesis.

"Are you sure it's a code? I think they only aimed to humiliate us...Both Crouch and I received the message when we were in public and it made us lose our calm and collected appearance. Surely that was their goal?" suggested Lucius.

I shook my head in disagreement again.

"Whoever is sending that is in a delicate position. They want their messages to be generally interpreted as an insult to the government, so we can assume that they are primarily identified with the Rebellion. The use of the paper planes and the messages themselves suggest that, like I was, they are ready to communicate information with the Ministry is it can help people, but that they don't want their peers to know what they are doing. The pranks are a cover for something more serious. It would be too much trouble to enchant those planes and send them if it was just a joke," I reasoned, pausing slightly before continuing.

"I think that the surface message is insulting, the second layer is threatening, the third is a cautioning, the fourth is...unknown as of yet. You should try to decipher their fourth layer. Maybe other messages will come to give you more hints. Do you have people specialised in cryptography in the Ministry?" I asked them, since my skill in that particular discipline was quite limited.

They both frowned in consideration before Lucius concluded that he should get an Unspeakable on the task. I agreed and bid them goodbye again, after extracting a promise that they would tell me if things progressed on their side.

I Flooed back home.

.

When I arrived, the Dark Lord was siting in the entrance parlour, reading an old-looking book in a calm and elegant posture. He never sat there normally. It made me pretty sure that he was waiting for me to come back from my last exam. It made my heart warm and my face soften in a fond smile.

Then I remembered the Patronus.

I felt my face flame up in embarrassment and mortification. Before I could calm down and lock the thought away again, Marvolo looked up from his book and sent me a lecherous grin as a welcome.

I couldn't help but to smile in answer before my mind came to an unbidden conclusion:

_Oh no. I think I'm in love with the Dark Lord..._

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_._

So, OWLs, Bill, a new political side, Crouch again and mysteriously insulting paper planes..

Next chapter: Planning the raid on the Rebels and Harry gets in a fight!

Thank you in advance for reviewing!


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

So, I reply to all reviews, but in case I missed you or you have blocked your Messaging function, thank you again to everyone who reviewed! :D The amount of reviews I have is more than I ever thought I'd get. I wouldn't have gone this far without you guys. Thank you so much for your amazing support! :D

Boblove321: It's funny that I was already on page 3 of the updates because you reviewed only about an hour after I posted. It just shows how many dynamic this fandom is, really. It's wonderful that years after the last book and the last movie, there are still so many new stories posted :)

FanFiction Lover: Dammit. Who's the third one? Lucius? Concerning why Harry doesn't confront Barty about it, well...I guess he would if Barty made a definite move. As it is, he barely believes that the man is flirting with him. He won't go and humiliate himself by showing that he noticed Barty's attention when there is a possibility that it's all in his imagination. Because who knows, really? We all assume that Barty is sexually attracted to Harry, but maybe he's just...in a power lust? Or maybe he's just creepy like that and don't expect Harry to actually act on it? Anyway. In short, I think Harry won't hesitate to tell him that he isn't interested the moment Barty makes a clear (for Harry) move. Last thing. About fucking time that Harry falls in love? Ahhh, well. He probably has been for quite a while but just never really realised it. Poor clueless Harry. He never imagined his life would turn out like this when he left the Rebels, that's for sure! :P

A Shy Reviewer, ariana and Amona: Thank you for your nice reviews! I really appreciate it :)

* * *

Chapter 35: 19th of November, Part One: Planning.

The night before, I had barely managed to hold my calm in front of Marvolo. I wanted to scream in frustration. How could I love the man when I wasn't even sure I trusted him?

All I was searching for in our weird arrangement was some affection and sexual satisfaction, right? And it was probably the same for him.

It didn't matter that I was his Horcrux or not. That was just convenient and made it particularly interesting sensation-wise when we were...shagging (I still couldn't think of the word without feeling embarrassed). Or at least I though so...I still didn't know much about Horcruxes, really.

The point was that none of us was in it for the long run. We were just inexplicably (on his side anyway) attracted to each other and just happened to get along well together. Exceptionally well, as it happens. Blissfully well.

Damned the gods and the skies above! I was in love with the man. The Dark Lord. The evil, insane Dark Lord. That had killed my parents and might or might not have anything to do with Sirius' death. Except that he wasn't really evil or insane anymore. Not that I could see, anyway.

How was I even supposed to resist his charms when the man was powerful (close to omnipotent), attractive (gorgeous), confident (arrogant), suave (drop-dead sexy), interesting (fascinating) and an all-around genius? He was practically a god on Earth! I tried not to, but damn, I felt privileged every time I woke up next to him, and every time he turned those mesmerising eyes on me.

Perhaps I should just be proud of having held out for so long. Or ashamed that it took me that long and a Patronus change to realise my feelings for him.

.

I turned around in bed, looking at his peaceful face. He was lying on his back, breathing deeply and calmly through his nose, his mouth closed and one arm loosely draped around my shoulder. His even features were smoothed out; his long dark hair was lying flatly around him, in order even in his sleep. It was the complete opposite of mine that were standing on my head obstinately sometimes through the whole day.

He had a bit of stubble, but it was light. He shaved every day when he got up, right before his shower. He teased me all the time because I only had to shave every couple of days, and even then, it wasn't an even beard like his, just annoying spots of hair on my chin and an absolutely horrible moustache that I, of course, had never even tried to let grow, but knew would be hideous.

He had snorted at himself a couple of times, saying that he was picking them up fresh out of puberty and was cutting it a bit too close this time. He mockingly sighed in relief every time he saw me shave, murmuring, "at least he has facial hair" just loud enough for me to hear. I inevitably glared at him whenever he'd say that. And then, of course, he'd laugh at me, unfazed by my frustration...

I couldn't help but to smile when I thought of those situations. It really wasn't what I had expected life with a Dark Lord to be like.

I knew he was still a Dark Lord, however. He still talked carelessly of torture and death, saying that he missed the blood and the thrill of his Dark Magic killing everyone on a battlefield. I had heard him a couple of times talking about it with Nagini before he learnt that I could understand the language.

I had even stumbled on him torturing a couple of Death Eaters a few times. But they were his followers; surely they knew what they were getting into when they swore fealty to him in the first place? I also heard Lucius mention two or three times that the torture of his followers really wasn't as bad as it used to be before he came back to life in 1981. But had I really become so complacent and dismissive in front of all this careless treatment of human beings?

I frowned in discontent. Was Bill right and had the company of the Dark Lord changed me? I only thought that, as long as it wasn't the general population against which he was using his Dark Magic, there wasn't a problem with it. And if there were Rebels casualties...like Sirius...well...they had chosen to oppose him in open combat. Was the Dark Lord supposed to send Stunners back at those who threw Killing curses at him, realistically?

.

While I was thinking, Marvolo opened his eyes and looked calmly at me watching him pensively.

It was always like that. One second, he was sleeping deeply, and the next, he was completely awake. No comfortable drowsiness, no burying his head back in the pillow because he needed more sleep. The Dark Lord had an iron will, and that included getting up in the morning, apparently.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked me, unable to be left in the dark, as usual.

"Do you think I've changed since I came to live with you?" I asked him abruptly.

He was very perceptive and usually a good judge of character, so I thought I had nothing to lose by asking him.

He frowned and looked at me considerately for a moment.

"You might have grown an inch or two, little imp," he teased me with a smirk. I shook my head at him.

"You know I haven't, sadly. And I'm not that small, I already told you..." I stopped, getting myself back on track. "Anyway, I meant mentally. Do you think I've lost some of my moral integrity?" I asked him seriously.

"Why would you think that? You're still awfully more upstanding than I am, but then again, I suppose that doesn't mean much," he continued with another pleased smirk.

The man was in great form this morning. Usually, he at least waited until he had his shower to start teasing me. I frowned at him.

"I don't know but, I don't feel disgusted or anything when I think of you punishing and torturing your Death Eaters...Doesn't that make me a horrible person?

-It depends on you justify it, really. Do you not see them as human beings to be treasured and cherished anymore? Who made you change your opinion? Bellatrix? She does have that effect on a lot of people, I can assure you," he said with a mockingly comforting little pat on my shoulder.

I rolled my eyes at him, before flopping down on my back on the fluffy bed.

"No...I think that they are your followers and, as such, have put themselves in this situation, so they deserved whatever punishments you dish them," I explained to the ceiling, before turning my head in his direction to see his reaction to my words.

He only lifted an eyebrow at me, propped on his elbow.

"I didn't think you'd be that rational about it, to be honest, but you are right. They came to me willingly. I certainly didn't force them to become my followers. The ones you saw me punish didn't have the Dark Mark, however. It would be too great an honour for those incompetents," he declared dismissively, before getting up and heading for the bathroom.

He paused and turned to me when he arrived on the doorstep.

"I'm going to take a shower, if you want to join me, imp," he teased with that smug smirk of his. I was barely a few inches smaller than he was, really. He was the abnormally tall guy.

"I'm not an imp! I'm medium-sized!" I protested in a familiar routine, even while I got up to follow him. I wasn't about to refuse showering with him, especially since our last shower together had ended...rather interestingly. I couldn't wait for a repeat.

"Yes, okay, not an imp. But you will always be my brat," he said in an exaggeratedly affectionate voice while wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I couldn't help but feel moved by the finality I heard in his words, even if he was only teasing. It sounded like he wanted to keep me at his side for quite a while. My idiotic feelings for him wouldn't matter much if that were the case...

.

o0o0o

A while later, Marvolo, the two Lestranges brothers, Lucius, Crouch and I gathered and sat in a planning room which had probably been used as a war room when there were still open conflicts.

On a large sheet of paper, I had drawn a plan of the Rebel camp to explain my strategy and to show its configuration.

The camp was basically in the middle of a forest, in a big circular clearing. The wards surrounded it and had about a diameter of two kilometers. At its thinnest, one had to walk about 500 meters in the woods to reach them. The camp was divided roughly in four sections of different sizes; one of them for the housing, one for the training grounds, one for the communal kitchen and the meeting place (where the reunions took place). The last one hosted the little school and the gardens where Neville grew the vegetables and fruits. At the center of the village, where the roads met, there was a large place where we had sometimes gathered as well.

When I showed them how the Camp was configured, Crouch had immediately scoffed.

"There aren't any barriers or any gates apart from the wards? It will be so easy to attack their stronghold," he said, his voice filled with glee.

I was just surprised that the Dark Lord had included him in the planning at all, considering Marvolo's near-violent reaction after last time. I supposed that if Crouch's Aurors were to be part of the attack, he needed to be present...and the man seemed to understand that now was not the time to flirt anyway, thankfully.

"That's the concept, though. The Camp isn't a stronghold. It's open so that the Rebels wouldn't be stuck inside of the village to defend it. Their whole strategy is to be able to escape as fast as possible if an enemy attacks them," I corrected him, while launching in an explanation of my plan.

It was relatively simple. Remus, Tonks, Draco and I would go to try to spot the exact location of the camp while Neville and the others who wanted out of it would work on the inside of the wards to lower them. Someone would have to hold the wards in a lock down while the rest of us would go inside to face the opposition and make sure they didn't have a new alternate escape. Remus, Tonks and the peaceful Rebels would be portkeyed out to a safe house for the duration of the battle. Then, I would lead the Dark Lord's army through the woods to Moody's house and we'd try to catch him before he left with all the data on the Rebel activity. I knew he kept everything in a safe that he carried in his pocket. With a bit of luck, we'd catch him and make him open the safe and we could kiss this extremist Rebellion goodbye once and for all.

The tricky part of this plan would be the timing.

We discussed the date of the raid and established that we should do it on the 20th of December, because the Rebels sometimes went elsewhere for the Yule and New Year celebrations.

The Dark Lord suggested me (or more like ordered) to get some unwarding techniques from a professional wardmaster because I'd be leading the operation against the wards and I kept dealing with them anyway. That's what I'd be doing in the next month to prepare for the raid.

He would, in the meanwhile, give some training for a few of his Death Eaters who looked like they had let themselves go. Lucius had blushed (blushed!) in shame at that comment. I asked him if I could assist to the sessions because I was curious of how his training would be.

_Probably quite different from mine, and possibly more violent_, I thought.

The Lestrange brothers had scoffed when I said that.

"What? If you've got a problem with me, just say it," I snapped at them.

They had been making all sorts of comments during the planning about how I should let the professionals do the work and about how I had no idea how to plan a raid. Of course, everyone had suggested alternatives during the planning session and the strategy had changed a lot from my basic idea, but they had mostly been about logistics of things I didn't know, like how many people would participate, for instance, and they had all corrected me in the spirit of making the plan better. All, that is, except the Lestrange brothers who had smirked and scoffed at every sentence that came out of my mouth. By now, I had enough of their superior attitude. It was radically different than from their obedient attitude of a few weeks before. I didn't understand what had changed for them in the meanwhile...

Rabastan drew himself up at my comment, smirking at me like he'd been waiting for me to say something like that for a long time.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would like to know why you insist on being here. You shouldn't be part of the planning; you should just give us the information and return to school, with the other children of your age," he declared patronisingly. His dismissive behaviour made my blood boil. If anyone had no reason to be here, it was them, in my opinion. What were they doing in the Dark Lord's administration anyway?

"I want to be part of the planning because I want to maximise the chances of the operation working," I reasoned, keeping a tight grip on my temper.

"Or, maybe, you want to make sure that you are included because you want to be able to sabotage it...I'd find that more likely. You wouldn't want your little friends to be hurt, after all," he pointed out, mockingly, challengingly.

"I don't want innocent people to be hurt; you're right. But I won't get in the way of the fighting," I denied vehemently.

"How do you call it, then? We will be forced to protect you and pay attention to you. This raid is no place for incompetent children."

By then, I was seeing red with fury.

"I'm certainly not incompetent! I've already beaten Lucius in a Duel! Tell him, Lucius, because Mister Lestrange here apparently has a problem with my competence level," I nearly shouted, jumping to my feet.

I saw Lucius lift an eyebrow and open his mouth to shoot me a sarcastic comment, probably, but Rabastan beat him to it.

"He probably let you win. And everyone knows that Lucius has never been the best of duellers anyway...

-What!" started Lucius, indignant.

"If you want me to believe you're worth anything in combat, kid, you gotta prove it by fighting me. Right now. No preparation and fancy tricks," he challenged me, his small smirk egging me on.

I clenched my fists tightly. He wanted a fight? He'd get it, by the gods!

_I'll wipe the floor with your pretentious ass, you'll see,_ I thought, before the Dark Lord interrupted.

"We are still linked by the Honour's Duel, Harry. You can't get hurt without hurting me in the process...I can't approve this duel, sadly. Unless you want to forfeit now?" he asked me, an eyebrow lifted expectantly.

I felt the frustration grow impossibly more inside of me. I couldn't forfeit now! I needed to think about it well before. I needed to ask myself if the Dark Lord would take advantage of the situation and do something really Dark Lordish.

Before I could say any of that, however, Rodolphus interceded in favour of the Duel.

"My Lord, if I may, they could limit their spells to non-lethal ones, or ones that wouldn't cause permanent injuries? I believe that in the case of Honour Duels, one of the participants can agree to the other partaking in relatively dangerous activities without endangering himself as long as both agree on it. The case was established because of a Quidditch national player who had to play a game before a duel..." he drifted off when he saw his Lord's dismissive wave.

I looked at Marvolo. He was thinking about it. Good, because I wanted to fight. It had been too long and I had been feeling a bit helpless after the whole Ministry incident and the pathetic front I had presented the Dark Lord right before that.

"No Dark Magic, no crippling spells, no potentially lethal ones," Marvolo finally declared.

"It's in the kid's favour, but alright," conceded Rabastan.

But I couldn't let the duel start with him already having a ready excuse to explain his upcoming defeat.

"If we say that we can't use a spell more than once, would it still be in my favour?" I challenged him, well aware that I had just upped the level of difficulty of our duel significantly.

"Does that include shield charms as well?" my opponent asked.

"Of course," I confirmed, nodding categorically.

Rabastan sent me a disturbing smile that might have scared me if I had not lived with Moody for most of my life and with the Dark Lord for the past few months. As it was, he might have been a toothless kitten for all I cared.

"Let us adjourn to the Duelling room, then. I expect that, no matter who loses or wins this Duel, I'll never hear a word of complaint from you again on this matter, Rabastan. By questioning his presence and loyalty, you are also questioning my discernment. I will tolerate no more of this insubordination from you, understood?" scolded the Dark Lord.

"Of course, My Lord. I meant no disrespect," answered Rabastan in a contrite voice. I frowned at the interaction. Wasn't the Dark Lord being a bit...mild in his discipline? Something felt...rehearsed in that scene. I stored the thought away for now while I followed them out of the War room and toward the Duelling room.

.

I took advantage of the trip to center myself and draw my Occlumency shields up more tightly. It wouldn't do to start the duel angry. It would just make me more predictable.

I had done the exercise of "no spell twice" quite often at the Rebel camp. It was Sirius' favourite training game because it made you see which spells you relied on too heavily and it forced you to find original and creative solutions on the spot.

.

When we arrived, Lucius, Rodolphus, Barty and Marvolo went to stand to the side of the room, and the latter put up a protective ward against rebounding curses. I glanced at them nonchalantly before turning my eyes on my opponent. Rabastan looked elated and excited by the prospect of putting me in my place. I'd show him what I was made of.

We took place, facing each other at 10 paces of distance: him, standing tall with his wand above his head and his other hand extended in front of him; me, with my wand poised in front of me and my knees flexed for more mobility. I could already tell he'd be a stiff dueller by the way he was holding himself.

The Dark Lord lowered his hand and the duel started officially. None of us moved and, for what felt like a few seconds, everything was silent and immobile. Then, Rabastan snarled and shot me a Bone-breaking curse.

_Ah, he'll probably try to make me use my shield early on._

I dodged it, replying with a Tickling hex and Laughing curse in rapid succession. I had chosen those two spells because, to the normal eye (and not a trained magical sight like mine), they looked the same colour as a Stunning spell and a Cutting hex. He dodged them stiffly with a too large step to the side, like I thought he would. Now, he'd think I used up my Stunning and Cutting spell already and wouldn't look for them. I saw that I was right in the superior smirk he sent me.

"Levicorpus!" he shot me.

One of Severus' spells? Sirius had talked to me about it. Did he hope to surprise me? Why did he say it out loud?

Ah, there was a silent charm paired with it, a target seeking Disarming charm, slightly different from the traditional Expelliarmus. I dispelled it and dodged the Levicorpus.

I sent an Earthquake on the ground under him and paired it with a Bludgeoning hex that would make him lose his balance. He put a Hovering charm on himself to float above the shaking floor, but the Bludgeoning spell hit him dead on, making him back away of a few feet in the air, but not enough to end the duel.

He sent a Diffindo at my head, and an Entrails Exploding one at my stomach. Theoretically, if it hit my digestive system, I could still survive and live without too many problems. But it was really pushing the rules.

I shot a glance at the Dark Lord to see if he'd disqualify Rabastan while I put up a shield spell. I didn't have time to dodge the curse without making it hit somewhere more damageable.

I looked at where Rabastan was still floating in the air and thought of sending him a Tornado, but it would be too magically demanding, so I decided to shoot him an underpowered Fire curse. He countered it with an Aguamenti but he stopped it too early because he couldn't see what was happening behind the water shield.

I continued to feed my Fire some magic and he couldn't use Aguamenti anymore. He tried to dodge the fire, but I followed him with my wand wherever he went. He got a bit burnt before he conjured an ice shield, and I directed my fire to split and spill on the sides of the shield. He was forced to dodge down and wrap himself in a magic shield.

I let the fire dissipate. It had served its purpose and was too draining to keep up.

The next minutes were long successions of curses on his part and of first and second years hexes on mine. Who knew that prank hexes would be so useful? Conjurations were very draining and unpractical in long duels. I knew that Sirius would have reprimanded me for the long-sustained fire, but I had gotten his main shield out because of it. And Rabastan was now standing with green skin and babbling incessantly.

He couldn't use verbal magic anymore and had trouble concentrating with the constant stream of words coming from his mouth. I, on the other hand, had had to use my Finite after I was hit by a Finger-removing hex and nearly dropped my wand. It had forced me to reveal that I could cast certain spells with my left hand.

.

I was stepping away from a Blasting Curse that really should have been enough for the Dark Lord to protest when I got hit by an Obstruction Charm that completely blocked my vision with a dark cloud. In theory, a simple Finite would disperse it, but I had already used it up once.

I started to feel a bit of panic welling up in my chest, before I centered myself again. I closed my eyes and thought of the blind folded training I had practised at the Rebel camp. I stood immobile, listening and reaching out with my magic. Rabastan was still floating and babbling, but then he silenced himself. I couldn't hear much more than a faint rustling of clothes when he moved, but my magic was mapping the room quickly. Despite the temporary blindness, I could still see the magic swirling around because it wasn't relying on my physical sight. The Dark Lord standing in the corner would have been enough to light up the whole room if his magic hadn't been so Dark in the first place. Like the magic of everyone surrounding me at the moment, except from mine, as a matter of fact.

I came back to my initial position, wand aloof and knees flexed, ready to move. I waited for Rabastan to shoot a spell so that I could spot him. A Stunning spell whizzed in my direction and I sidestepped it, easily seeing my target now that his wand had lighted up to throw the spell and shooting a Blasting curse back at him. My answer took him by surprise, judging by the rushed sounds of fabrics, but I didn't get him. We continued to exchange curses, my vision alight with the magical residue that we created and that remained floating between us. I knew that I was showing too much of my ability, but I really didn't want to lose the duel, not against that pompous bastard and certainly not in front of the Dark Lord.

After what was probably a minute, but felt like ten at least, our spells had saturated the air of the duelling area so much that I could see his faint shadowy silhouette.

Rabastan was starting to tire; he had probably dispelled his Hovering charm by now, since it was quite draining to maintain. He tried to hide his fatigue, however, keeping up with his energy-consuming big steps and stiff posture, from what I could deduce from my limited vision.

I whirled away from a Quaffled-sized fireball, snapping my wand up in a quick movement that send a Cutting hex hurling to my opponent. His form hovered in place, hesitating for a fraction of second, probably shooting a glance to the Dark Lord when he should have paid attention to his surroundings and he reflectively took his standard big step to the side to dodge it. He walked right in my Stunning spell and fell to the ground immediately.

I felt a rush of delight pass through me and a triumphant grin stretch on my face at seeing his prone form on the ground. It hadn't been easy, but I got him.

I approached him, wand held loosely and prepared in case he was faking it. I sent him an Incarcerous, for good measure, of course, not because I wanted to see the aristocrat bound and squirming at my feet. Of course not. I wasn't vindictive like that. Not with my good friend Rabastan...

I went to him, pushing him on his back with the heel of my boot. He was glaring at me menacingly, his teeth bared like a dog.

_Ahhh, so I was right to take precautions...Has he managed to develop a resistance against Stunning spells? That would be quite handy. _

"Ah, ah", I tut-tutted mockingly. "None of that now. I won fair and square. Can't you accept this honourable defeat?"

"You cheated! You used the Cutting and the Stunning twice!" he growled out.

I shook my head in sympathy.

"The Tickling and Laughing hex have strikingly similar hues, haven't they? Such a shame you confounded them so early in the duel," I said, cancelling the Obscuration spell and looking around at the suddenly brightly lit room.

The Dark Lord took down the ward and came to stand next to me. He shot me a smirk before wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

"That was still far from my level, brat," he told me.

I scoffed.

"Of course, what a letdown it would be if I could beat you so easily. I think I would have no choice but to forfeit in deception if that was the case," I answered, smirking back at him.

"Insolent brat," he chastised me with an unmistakable fondness in his voice.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Crouch looking at our exchange with eyes and mouth agape before he caught himself gaping.

_The cat is out of the bag, _I supposed_._ I didn't know how I felt about that.

I glanced at the Dark Lord questioningly and he smirked at me again, unconcerned.

_He's claiming me in front of his Inner Circle Death Eaters,_ I understood.

"Rabastan, good job, but no doubt will you learn a lot during the training I will provide in the next few weeks. Do attend," ordered Voldemort before strolling away.

I snorted and followed him out of the room, leaving Crouch and the Lestrange brothers to look contemplatively at me as I passed them.

They'd think twice before calling me incompetent now.

o0o0o

Later that day, I was reflecting on what I could have done differently in the duel. I wasn't satisfied with my performance. I hadn't been particularly original and I had revealed too much of my ability to the Dark Lord. Even if I didn't think I'd duel him anymore, but I still didn't feel comfortable showing him so much. I was normally always careful to not give myself away too much, but the way Rabastan had behaved had riled me up so much...It was as if he knew exactly what to say to infuriate me and make me take irrational decisions.

I also didn't understand why the Dark Lord hadn't intervened earlier. We were disturbing the planning, after all, and Rabastan had cheated repeatedly in our Duel. Marvolo was probably letting me affirm myself, but he looked like he was a bit too pleased with the outcome of the duel, as if...

As if he had planned it himself and got exactly what he wanted out of it.

Of course.

Rabastan wasn't crazy enough to act so defiantly in front of his Lord. He had probably received the order to do it. For what purpose? To get me to reveal my skills to him?

My heart wrenched at the thought that it was another set-up, another manipulation. I thought we were done with that sort of things, but I suppose that he had never stopped being a Dark Lord. I just stopped caring about it. And I had been too caught up in my fascination of the man to realise it.

I looked around at my room, where I had isolated myself to think under the pretence of a Potions assignment to complete. My new personal belongings were spread around the room; my new clothes were out of my new suitcase and lined up in my new closet. I looked down at the expansive set of formal robes I had worn for the planning meeting. I looked like a stuffy Pureblood heir; the twins had been right about that all those months ago. Every minute now, I'd probably start complaining about my clothes not being in the latest fashion, or about my parents being overbearing or over-affectionate in public if I continued with that...This wasn't who I was.

This room, those clothes, this whole place. I felt trapped. I suddenly needed to go out, to get away from it all. It was itching me all over. I tore my expansive and stiff clothing off and started rummaging in my closet for something that looked more like what I used to wear.

I found pants that looked a bit like Muggle jeans and put only a button-down shirt with it. There, that already felt a bit more natural. I took my cloak of its hanger and Transfigured it into a Muggle coat. I grabbed the emergency backpack from the side of the room, put it on and Disillusioned it quickly.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a letter lying on my desk. I had opened it a few days ago, but hadn't looked at it again since then. I picked it up. It was my new Gringotts statement, stating everything I now owned and had access to. My eyes fell on the line that described a Black House in London. I had been surprised at its mention and had checked its location on a map. That's where I'd be going tonight. A little expedition. I'd come back, I knew. I just needed out, needed time to think about everything. He hadn't lied to me directly, but I had lied to myself and I needed to sort my priorities out.

I left the room, heading out in a swift, steady pace. When I arrived at the entrance parlour, He was in there. Of course. He looked furious when he saw me.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed at me, nearly slipping into Parseltongue in his anger.

"I'm going out," I replied curtly.

"And, pray tell, why I would let you do that?" he asked, still seething.

"Because I need space. I know you set up the whole thing this afternoon. I should have realised it on the spot, but I guess in the past weeks I became too used to turn a blind eye as far as you are concerned."

I saw a flash of surprise pass through his eyes before he narrowed them at me, but he didn't deny his responsibility for the duel of earlier. I took it as a confirmation that my intuition was right.

"I had my reasons," he further confirmed.

"If that line was supposed to appease me, you're doing it wrong," I declared, before breathing in a calming breath. This wasn't about him manipulating me. It was about me changing my standards and needing space to reflect on who I was becoming and were I was heading.

"Anyway, I'm not leaving forever; I'm just going away to think about things. You have no reason to stop me. I'll be back in a few days," I continued.

"Tonight," he ordered categorically.

"What?" I asked, confused by his curt reply.

"You will come back tonight and sleep here as usual. That's the only way I will accept it," he stated.

I examined him carefully. I didn't appreciate how he thought he could order me around as if I was his minion, but I knew he was doing an effort of concession and that he was keeping himself from preventing me to leave at all. It was surprising that he would accept that much already.

"From now on, I want to be able to come and go as I please from this place, as long as I am back for the night. I won't be trapped here," I demanded firmly.

He wasn't my minder, or a parental authority. He didn't have any say in where I was passing the night. I just wanted a compromise that both acknowledged my freedom of movement and gave him some reassurance that I wasn't fleeing anywhere permanently.

I did want to continue sleeping with the man, after all. That hadn't changed, even if I was hurt and pissed at him at the moment. But really, what else did I expect from a Dark Lord? Flowers and champagne?

He was watching me closely. I could see that he was pleased I hadn't pushed for staying away overnight. He walked up to me and stopped right in front of me. I didn't move away. I waited to see what he would do.

He slid a hand to cup my neck and another around my waist before he crushed me up to him, attacking my lips violently and bruising them while he pushed me against the door and squashed me tightly against it with his whole body.

For a second, I didn't know how to react, since I couldn't process what was happening. But then, the low buzz of his magic and the warmth of his body shook me out of my shock and I started to respond eagerly to his tongue mapping my mouth and my hands came around his waist to pull him even closer to me. His hands were roaming on my body, squeezing and rubbing and caressing. I placed my arms around his shoulder and lifted myself up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He hummed in approval as his hands began to kneel the flesh of my butt.

If I didn't leave now, I'd never leave. That was probably his plan all along, the smug bastard.

I pulled my lips away from his, but before I could tell him that I needed to leave, I felt him bite down on the crook of my neck and I gasped in pain. It bloody hurt! He lapped at it to dull the pain and started sucking down on the skin.

I rolled my eyes mentally when I realised what he was doing. The man was obsessed with marking me. I let him do so, if it reassured him. It wasn't as if I was planning on hosting a party any time soon.

The tightening of his hands on my backside and the tantalising roll of his hips was steadily making me lose my train of thoughts. I clung to it as best as I could.

I couldn't let myself be persuaded to stay. That would mean that he could influence my decision. And I was still mad at the man for manipulating me into revealing some of my duelling skills...Ah, yes, I had forgotten about that.

I slid my feet down to the ground and looked at him a bit breathlessly. He was smirking at me, probably thinking that I would suggest to head to his rooms. I shook my head at him.

"Just because I still want you doesn't make me forget what happened this afternoon. I'm going. I'll be back later this evening, I promise," I told him in a firm voice.

His lips tightened together and he clenched his hands, looking to the side. He gave a short nod, acknowledging what I said. I knew he didn't want to go and it made me feel better about our relationship if he made this concession for me.

I went up to him, pressing myself briefly against his chest and burying my face against his neck in a parody of a hug. I inhaled his spicy smell before withdrawing from him, catching his intense gaze just before I spun around and Disapparated.

I only hoped that I wouldn't regret it.

.

* * *

Ouch. Harry is having a bit of an identity crisis. At least he didn't blew it with Voldie. I think.

Things never turn out well for Harry when he decides to leave, right? At least, his little forays in the outside world are usually...informative.

Also, I want to add another POV in the next chapter, but I can't quite decide of whom it should be. Hermione? The twins? Bill? Remus? Severus? Which one would you prefer? Let me know which one and what you thought of this chapter!


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to my loyal reviewers and the newcomers! Drop me a line if you like this story! ;)

Also, the result of my little enquiry is the Severus' POV at the end of this chapter. The other alternate POVs should be covered in the following chapters, so don't worry if you haven't got your pick. ;)

FanFiction Lover: Is the third person Mrs Weasley? Ah, and finally, the twins aren't in this chapter, but they will be in the next, in a way ;)

emeraldeyed and Guest: Thank you! :D

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 36: 19th of November, Part Two: Grimmauld Place

I Apparated to a side alley near the Ministry. It was the closest I had been to Grimmauld Place. The distance was close enough to walk from there, but it would take me a while. The delay didn't bother me. It was still early in the evening, even if it was dark outside, and I needed the time to think and settle some of my problems, namely about my relationship with the Dark Lord.

I had fooled myself. That man was the Supreme Leader of the British Wizarding World. He wasn't a nice guy; he didn't reach that position because he had a nice smile and a fair approach. But he was also my lover, and I had recently discovered that I loved him.

And I liked the relationship I had with him. The easy companionship, the teasing, the passionate sex, the fascinating discussions...I loved it all, despite of whom he was and what he had done in his life.

I couldn't continue to act like a disappointed puppy every time he tortured someone. That's whom he was, and he certainly wasn't going to change because of me. That he even wanted to compromise with me on certain issues was more than I expected from him.

I should stop behaving like a powerless child. I should determine what I was ready to accept and what I found immoral or intolerable. If I wanted to oppose him on a certain subject, I should do it in my own way, not by begging, pleading, sulking or waiting for him to offer a compromise. I had to be Slytherin about it. Negotiation could work, but I didn't really have anything else to bargain with. Cunning and lies...he'd probably see through them quite easily. And he told me when I challenged him to that stupid Duel that I shouldn't even try to manipulate him because it would come back to bite me in the ass. Perhaps literally.

_Wishful thinking, _I thought with a humourless smile.

So, what was I to do then?

I should take my life in my own hands. Have a plan B, A shelter, an alternative, contacts. Make my own alliances. Exploit my strengths. Have some power of my own.

For the moment, I had a cosy and warm place as the Dark Lord's lover. It probably wouldn't last. I didn't think it would last as long as it already had. From what I had heard from Draco, the Dark Lord never really kept a lover longer than a few months and they would only see each other sporadically, at the Dark Lord's demand, of course. I was at his Fortress all the time. Surely, that meant that our relationship would end more quickly. And then, what would I do? I wasn't about to stay at the Dark Lord's Fortress when he'd have his new lovers over and parade them in front of me. I could probably stay at Lucius' place, but it would still be under His thumb.

And the Dark Lord wouldn't let me have my own place away from him so easily because he wanted to keep his Horcrux safe. But I wasn't about to let myself be discarded and then kept like a prize on display. I needed a place to escape to, just in case. And that was what I came to check.

My feet slowed down as I took in the narrow, dilapidated houses. The overgrown bushes and the broken windows didn't inspire me much good feeling about what I would find. I looked at the street sign: 'Grimmauld Place'. Yep, that was it.

My eyes swept over the house numbers to locate the twelfth. My brows furrowed when I realised that it was missing. Number eleven and number thirteen stood next to each other without as much as a hair's width between them.

_It must be hidden._

Indeed, as I came closer, I began to sense the subtle thickening of the air, the faint glint that stayed even when I didn't use my magical sight, the smell of Dark magic with which I had become so accustomed in the past months.

I focused on the wards. They were quite old, but not as ancient as the ones at the Dark Lord's Manor.

I soon realised that I didn't need to worry about them, however, since they recognised their new Master and opened up for me.

The house that revealed itself looked in an even worse shape than the rest of the street.

_There goes my plan,_ I thought morosely.

I still went inside to check the state of the building. I had to use a few Black passwords that Sirius had given a few years ago when we had sat down to discuss inheritance questions. Without the passwords and ritual spells, I'd have managed to access the communal part of the house, but not the Black library or the Master's bedroom. The former might be the only interesting thing for me in the whole building.

The front door opened with a gloomy grating sound. I coughed when a dust cloud entered my nose before I thought of doing a Bubblehead charm. I lit one of my lighting balls and made it follow my progress in the narrow corridor as I walked, my wand forward and alert.

It didn't prevent me from starting violently when I heard a voice suddenly speak up from behind me.

"Who are you?" I heard someone ask in a shrill voice.

I turned around quickly to face whoever was there, only to come to face with an old witch in a painting.

"You don't look like a Black! AN INTRUDER! AN INTRUDER IN THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK! KREACHER!" she screeched.

I heard a pop and a House-Elf appeared in front of me, his finger connected prepared to snap me away from the house.

"I am the rightful Master of this House. Cease now," I ordered. The House-Elf grumbled, but lowered his hand and bowed his head.

The threat of expulsion gone, I turned sharply to face Walburga Black. I recognised her from Sirius' description. He had loved to make me laugh by describing his mother as a harpy and imitating her screeching.

"Madam Black. I am Sirius' heir. My name is Harry Potter and I am the new Lord Black and Lord Potter. I will be taking possession of this house and might come to live here eventually...if I find this place suitable. So far, I must say that I am not very impressed with the formerly illustrious dwelling of the Blacks," I said with an imitation of Draco's sneer on my face and my disdainful voice.

Sirius' mother scrutinised me in the faint glow of lighting bulb. I waved my hand in a careless move and lit up the torch in the hallway in a rare display of my limited wandless capacities. I strove to make an impression, after all. It would make life easier in this place if I had their support.

I saw her eyebrows lift at my spell and her eyes turn speculative.

"Are you a Pureblood, boy?" she asked.

I frowned at her in discontent.

"I'm a Half-Blood, but I've grown up in the Wizarding Society and uphold the beliefs and traditions of my world. My abilities and convictions are enough to compensate for whatever tarnish you imagine my family tree might suffer from."

The foremost argument for Pureblood supremacy was the loss of our culture and the increased contact with the Muggle World. I thought that by tackling those issues first, she'd accept me as Lord of the House more easily, particularly since the House-Elf looked like he obeyed her.

"Who are your contacts in the Wizarding Society? My blood-traitor of a son doesn't count," she said, with a disdainful curl of her lips.

"The Malfoys and the Dark Lord, mostly. I have had the pleasure of meeting two of your nieces, actually. Narcissa and Bellatrix," I said, before waving off a bit dismissively. "I don't have time for this interrogation now. I'm only looking at the premises. I must say I am quite disappointed in your work, Kreacher. I would have thought that an Elf who had the privilege of serving the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would be more assiduous at its tasks..."

I winced mentally when I saw the Elf start to look around for something with which he could punish himself. I wanted to appear firm and Pureblood-like, but there was a limit to my acting capacities. I wouldn't be able to not wince or flinch if he started to punish himself because of what I said.

"Kreacher, you are not allowed to punish yourself. It's a waste of your time. Use it to clean up this place and repair what has to be repaired. I want this place up and running before long. Understood?" I ordered in an imperious tone.

The House-Elf bowed and popped away. I released a small sigh of relief before leaving the portrait alone in the hallway.

.

I walked around the House. It was in a deplorable state, even for me who had grown up in relatively poor conditions. I wondered if the Elf had done anything at all in the past ten years or so since his Mistress passed away.

_Probably not_, I thought after I had to fight with a particularly vicious nest of Doxies that attacked me when I tried to look out of a window in the dressing room.

_I should check everything for emanating magic before I approach them. There's got to be other unpleasant surprises lurking about..._ I thought as I focused to bring my magical sight up and look around. It didn't look like there was anything else in the room.

When I was in the staircase leading upstairs, however, I caught a whiff of something unusual. A faint taint of Dark blue magic was swirling around lazily and floating up to the second level. I would recognise that magic anywhere.

_Has the Dark Lord been here recently? He would have had to spend a considerable amount of magic in this place to leave a mark so obvious in the ambient magic..._

I followed the trail upstairs. It led me to a door which had "Regulus Arcturus Black" written on it.

_Sirius' brother? Sirius told me that the Dark Lord had killed him two years before my parents died because he was trying to leave his service. Had Marvolo really used that much magic on doing that? _

A shiver of dread passed through me.

_Am I going to discover his body?_

With trepidation, I slowly opened the door, prepared to close it quickly at the first sign of a cadaver or an Inferi...only to see that the room was completely empty. Or, at least, devoid of any sort of decomposing body.

The midnight blue magic was coming from a drawer. My first thought was that it was probably a trap.

_I should leave it there, go back home and ask the Dark Lord about it...but I don't want the Dark Lord to know about this place._

I pondered the dilemma, but my curiosity would not let me leave whatever was in the drawer alone. It was nearly itching me. The pull I felt toward it was worrying me. I thought of forcing myself to leave the room..._but why would I do that, really? Whatever is in the drawer must not be really big. It's probably not dangerous..._

It was irrational and suspicious, but I breathed in and out quickly before making a spur of the moment decision to just open the drawer and not touch whatever was inside.

I stayed at a good distance from it, reaching slowly forward with my magic to tug the drawer open. As it came closer to its destination, my magic started sizzling a bit and I felt tingles spread through me from my scar. It made me close my eyes and shudder slightly.

_I really ought to just leave it there and come back with the Dark Lord..._

I shook my head resolutely. I wasn't an honorary Gryffindor for nothing.

I reached back until my magic connected with the drawer, grinding my teeth at the energy I felt coursing though me. It felt a bit different than when Marvolo was touching me...but strangely similar at the same time.

The drawer inched forward as I pulled it open with my magic.

I drew closer to look inside.

It was a locket: golden, with an ornate serpentine S on it, a bit gaudy, ostentatious. After living for a few months in Slytherin's Fortress, I'd recognise his mark anywhere with my eyes closed.

.

I paused and thought. The magic of the locket seemed aggressive, dangerous. It was probably cursed. I decided against touching it.

I tried a trick that worked on nearly every mysterious thing there was at the Fortress: I hissed at it.

Bad. Bad idea.

It opened immediately, a waft of dark clouds emerging from it and swirling with energy. My scar burnt like when the Dark Lord was angry. I slapped a hand on it to dim the burn but I still felt a head splitting ache.

_§ What the heck is that? § _ I said, still hissing in Parseltongue.

The clouds suddenly took the shape of a younger Dark Lord who looked at me shrewdly.

_§ You are a Speaker, and yet you don't know what I am. Who are you? And how do you know the noble language of the serpents? § _

Understanding jolted in my mind.

_By the gods could it be a... §Horcrux...§_ I gasped as I realised that I had said the last word out loud.

The younger version of the Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at me.

_§ What did you say? §_

_§ The answer to both of your questions is Horcrux. § _ I answered. There was no use denying my knowledge. I felt strangely intrigued to talk with a younger version of my lover.

His eyes widened in surprise before they shined in glee. His lips stretched in that smug smile I was so used to seeing on his older counterpart.

_§ So I succeeded then? Of course I did, I'm a genius! § _he boasted.

_So he didn't grow into his ego, he's always had it then. Interesting, _I thought disparagingly.

"You are the Leader of the Wizarding World at the moment, so I guess you probably succeeded in whatever you planned..." I said, unconsciously switching to English.

The young future Dark Lord's eyes flashed in satisfaction and his lips stretched in an evil-looking smile.

_§ And all the Mudbloods are probably dead by now. Perfect, §_ he commented, volunteering information in a peculiar way for him.

I jolted at the careless statement.

_So this was the Dark Lord's original plan then? I wonder what made it change..._

My thoughts were interrupted by the young Dark Lord.

_§ And I even managed to create a living Horcrux...an unprecedented feat. Tell me, Horcrux, when were you created and which year is this? § _He asked imperiously.

"The year is 1997. I was born in 1980," I answered succinctly, evading his question. "And you? Which year were you created?" I asked, not liking his pretentious attitude. He looked younger than me, so I thought his expression of superiority was not justified with me.

"1947," he replied, for once not hissing, but still speaking in a sibilant voice.

"So, he left you in your Locket for fifty years. You mustn't be very important then. So there is really no reason for you to pretend you are better then me. What use could you have for him? You would have to be brought up to speed. There have been a lot of magical innovations since your time. You'd be practically useless. The only reason you can stay out of the Locket so long is because you're feeding on my Magic." I paused at his furrowed brows.

"What? You thought I hadn't noticed? I bring my own Magic to the table, you know. I'm not a leech like you," I pushed. I wanted to provoke him into giving me more information.

He narrowed his eyes at me, scrutinising. I hadn't managed to rile him up.

"I couldn't have created a living Horcrux out of pure Magic. No matter how powerful I became. It's the gods of Nature's privilege to create life, and only Theirs," he stated.

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead in surprise. That sounded nearly...religious. I tried to think of if the real Dark Lord had ever expressed similar faith. I faintly remembered that he said he would like to believe that Magic was sentient...but that she probably wasn't?

While I was thinking, the foggy figure had crept closer to me, looking at me closely.

"Are you my son?" he asked.

I choked on nothing, coughing abruptly, my face twisting in disgust considering my current relationship with the Dark Lord. When I regained my composure, I shot him an incredulous look.

"Where do you get that from?" I asked, disbelieving.

"You look...faintly similar to me. Similar bone structure, colour of hair...of eyes, although mine were a darker green," he explained.

_The Dark Lord's eyes used to be green? Dark green?_

A shock of arousal passed through me as I tried to imagine his intense ruby-red eyes turn to forest green.

The younger Voldemort smirked suddenly.

"Ah. Lover then. I take them younger than I thought I would at this point," he commented, brow furrowed and scrutinising me.

I shook my head quickly to get rid of my distracting thoughts and to focus back on the conversation.

"What makes you think I'm his lover?" I asked him carefully.

He scoffed.

"You are my Horcrux, you are young, powerful, handsome and obviously attracted to me, not that the last part is surprising. I would probably have made sure to bind you to me in a more...intimate way. You belong to me; you are mine. It's quite easy to see now...Did he create you for this purpose? Did he chose a baby and granted him the privilege of hosting his soul?

-No! By the Gods! That's disgusting! And it would mean that he would have brought me up! We don't have a father-son relationship at all...We never have had," I told him, shaking my head in denial.

The young Dark Lord nodded seriously, before narrowing his eyes.

"Why did you come here then? Did he ask you to pick me up? The defenses around me don't look strong enough," he commented, looking back at his drawer and at the room around him.

"Hmm...It's fine though, because this is my house and nobody else can enter as long as I live," I try to reassure him because I didn't really want to explain to the Dark Lord how I ended in possession of one of his Horcruxes.

"And if you died? After further consideration, I can't understand why I would create a living Horcrux. You are so vulnerable. I suppose the thrill of the experiment could partly explain it, but...

-What do you mean; I'm vulnerable?" I interrupted him abruptly.

"Well, a simple Killing curse can kill you, whereas I require much more than that. Also, I'm not sure of how stable the Horcrux is with the rest of your soul, especially if your own soul is whole. Is it inactive, or does it share thoughts and feelings with you?" he asked in his typical 'research voice'.

I felt my eyes widen at the thought.

"I...I" I stuttered." I never tried to communicate with it, to be honest," I confessed.

The idea of another soul in my head was still freaking me out a bit. I wanted to forget about it, not actively talk to it. What if it offered comments on my life choices, or myself? What if it took over my body?

I froze in horror at the thought. The young Dark Lord was still watching me closely.

"I've got to go," I said hurriedly. "You'll be safe in your drawer for the moment, right?" I asked the other.

He lifted an eyebrow at me (he looked exactly like his older self when he did so) before saying:

"Well, that wretched creature did try to destroy me a few times, but in vain.

-Which creature?" I asked, still distracted by my horror-filled realisation.

"The House-Elf," he said.

"Kreacher?" I asked. The House-Elf in question popped in at his name and gasped in horror at the sight of the Horcrux before popping out again.

"Kreacher! Come here!" I ordered.

My House-Elf Apparated back in, throwing terrified glances in the direction of the young Dark Lord. I ignored his fright.

"Kreacher, I order you to stop trying to destroy the locket or whatever is in it. Understood? If you don't follow this order and try to kill it again, I'll use the Slytherin curse for bad House-Elves. Do you know what it is?" I asked, menacingly.

Kreacher nodded his head rapidly, looking impossibly more frightened than before.

"Good, because I also order you to protect this Locket, should anybody want to hurt it, destroy it or steal it. Do you understand?"

My House-Elf nodded his head rapidly, his throat producing a panicked whine. I felt bad to terrify him so, but I didn't want to risk anything.

"Good," I said decidedly before dismissing Kreacher. I turned back to the Horcrux who was watching me with a suspicious expression on his face.

"Why aren't you taking me to him?" he asked.

I shook my head distractedly, still thinking about the possibility of being possessed by my Horcrux. If I touched another Horcrux, what if they could join up to take over my body? Could that be one of the Dark Lord's plan? Another of his manipulations?

My hands started shaking at the infuriating and despairing thought.

Maybe he was just keeping me close to him until he had enough, and then he'd just...give me over to the other Horcruxes, and then he'd have his heir...He'd never trust anybody enough to ever let go of his power, except perhaps himself. He'd never love anybody enough, let alone some poor idiotic and naïve child like me, to want to keep them at his side for long. Maybe that's why he never wanted to duel me. He was just bidding his time before my Horcrux would take over...

I slammed the drawer shut again with a wave of my hand and stumbled out of the room, down the stairs and outside the house. The portrait shouted something at me that I didn't understand. I'd come back to see the progress on the cleaning up and restoration at some point anyway. And I wouldn't go back to that cursed room if I could help it though.

Once outside of the Anti-Apparition wards, I twisted around and Apparated back to the Dark Lord's Fortress.

.

I half dreaded that the Dark Lord would be waiting for me in the entrance parlour. I felt too vulnerable to talk to him at the moment and too weary of his manipulations to face him. I also half-hoped he'd be there and take care of me like the night when he talked to me about the Muggles.

But he wasn't there. The parlour was empty and the Fortress was silent. I walked briskly to my room, my head fogged up by dark thoughts. I rubbed my itching scar, scratched it and pulled my hair out as I walked, full of nervous energy and jittery. My hands were still shaking. I could feel my mind cloud up and my head pound.

If he wasn't there, it meant that he trusted me enough not to check up on me. If he wasn't there, it meant that it wasn't important whether I came back or not. If he wasn't there and had felt me through the shifting of the wards, it meant that he was waiting for me to come back to him, giving me space. If he wasn't there and had felt me through the shifting of the wards, it meant that my presence didn't matter as long as his Horcrux was safe...

I arrived in my room, stopping in front of the door. I clenched my hands uselessly at my sides while I try to gather my thoughts. My clothes were covered with the dust that permeated the air of Grimmauld Place. My hair too, probably. I should take a shower. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to the Dark Lord's rooms tonight. Had I promised I'd be sleeping that night in his bedroom, or only in his Fortress? I couldn't remember. I shook my head to clear my mind. Shower first. Bed questions after.

.

The warmth of the shower melted the tension in my muscles. It felt divine. I sighed in contentment before resting my head on the cool tiles on the shower wall. The fog in my head was clearing up, but only slightly. I couldn't understand why I felt so confused. It made me think of my Halloween breakdown and I really didn't want to address that issue unless it was necessary. But perhaps now it was. My conversation with the Locket had opened up a whole new line of questioning.

What if I got this sort of...episodes of craziness because of the Horcrux in my scar? What if it made me mentally unstable? Why hadn't it before? Was the contact with the Dark Lord or other Horcruxes making me more mentally vulnerable? What if I was just trying to find myself excuses and was becoming crazy on my own?

I was shaking my head in denial, still pressing against the tiles with my forehead, when I felt a hand graze my side. I jolted and quickly turned around, only to see the Dark Lord standing just outside of the shower, brow furrowed in what looked like worry and eyes narrowed scrutinising my face. I probably looked like a lost and wet puppy at the moment.

I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back against the wall and savouring the caress on my skin. Another hand went under my chin and lifted it up, full lips connecting with mine softly as the shower rained over us. I responded slowly, and felt as if this kiss was different from all the others we had shared until now. It felt deeper, somehow, more intense. A tongue slid out of his mouth into mine, caressing my tongue unhurriedly. I felt the tension and the panic seep out of me. It had been a long day.

The kiss broke up naturally a while later instead of building up to something more passionate, but it felt comfortable like that. I bent forward slightly and rested my head on his strong shoulder. His arms surrounded me and pressed me closer to him. I felt the shower close off and a spell dry us before Marvolo coaxed me to follow him. He went to my bed and settled us in it, sighing before pulling me back to his chest. I tightened my arms around him and fell asleep, comforted by his presence despite the heavy doubts plaguing my mind.

Tomorrow, I would try to solve this.

.

o0o0o

A few hours earlier, Hogwarts

.

Severus was sitting at the Headmaster's desk, doing a marvellous job of holding up his poker face when he was screaming in rage and disappointment inside.

A young girl was in the guest's chair, her head bowed down in desperation and her hands gripping the leather of her seat in a pointless attempt to relieve some of her tension.

She didn't want to be there. She hated him. Like most of the students in his school, he suspected. She had still come to talk to him by her own initiative.

She bit her lip nervously. It was barely noticeable from her bent down position, but Severus was a perceptive man with a keen sense of observation. He was also a master spy and he would soon be forced to reveal his hand to this bushy-haired, beaver-toothed Know-it-all if he let her speak of what preoccupied her.

He'd have to thread carefully with his Head Girl. He had heard that she was passably clever. He had even had to lower a few of her marks discreetly to allow his nephew to have the highest average in Hogwarts. Having a Muggleborn, regardless of how well integrated she seemed to be, get the top marks in a Wizarding institution more or less controlled by the Dark Lord wouldn't do, naturally. Draco was a much safest choice for that role.

"Miss MacMillan," he started because he had no intention of letting her incriminate him as her accomplice or of sending one of his students, even if the most annoying one, to her death. He paused dramatically, giving his words the time to form slowly and carefully in his head before he let them go.

"Miss MacMillan," he repeated as his mind was whirling and trying to find a problem to his solution. "As the Headmaster of this school, I am a very-well informed man and would ask you to only waste my time with the trivial suppositions and conjectures your mind has no doubt come up if you feel it pertains educational matter. I am, after all, neither your Mind Healer, nor your friend. As such, you may reconsider whatever you wish to ask me and question the pertinence of sharing such information with the Headmaster of your school. Surely Mister Weasley would be more apt to help you in your endeavour," he suggested in that cutting, sharp tone that made the impressionable minds around him recoil at his every word.

It didn't please him to have to be so obvious in his statement. It was incriminating in itself to present it so plainly. But one had to use such direct words when they had to deal with obnoxious reckless Gryffindor.

Miss MacMillan was supposed to be a clever witch, but her company had never been conducive to the development of her intellectual faculties, to say the least. He only hoped he wouldn't have to reiterate his dangerous words, or explicit them even more.

He observed her closely and could nearly see the gears turning in her mind as she turned his words around and tried to make sense of them. A dramatic gasp fell from her lips as she finally understood their meaning.

He sighed mentally. Why the Rebels even bothered to do anything covertly when none of them could control their facial expression was a mystery to him.

She opened her mouth to say something, before, thank Merlin, she paused and glanced at the portraits.

_Good girl,_ he thought patronisingly._ Now, go back to that carrot-haired boyfriend of yours and learn to keep your head down. But know that I'll be watching you very closely from now on. One step out of the way and it will be the end of you. Muggleborn or not._

She nods decisively at him, obvious, much too obvious in her agreement.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you for nothing, Headmaster. I only wanted to give you the modified schedules for the Prefects' rounds of this week and to talk to you about some problems we ran into recently with some Slytherins bullying Hufflepuffs," she explained in that hurried tone of hers while she gave him the schedules.

He felt a whisper of magic warm his hand at the contact with the parchment and knew that these were not only the Prefect rounds. He glanced down at the glamoured paper and lifted one eyebrow at her very slightly to let her know that the message has passed. Again, too obvious a code for his tastes, but he would take what he could have.

"As it is a matter of inter-house discipline, I'm afraid that you will have to bring it to Professor McGonagall's attention. If the conflict degenerates to serious threats on members of either party, this will be brought to my attention again. Is it clear, Miss MacMillan?" he explained her, letting his second sentence deliberately vague to allow her to apply it to the real motivation behind her visit. He did want her to tell him if she knew about another potential attack, after all.

He caught a twitch of her right eye betraying her understanding before she ended the conversation and left his office.

When he was alone again, he glanced back down at the encoded message and rubbed the grainy surface of the paper pensively as he thought of the implication of this meeting. Nothing had been said too explicitly. He had been suitably irritable and unwelcoming to not solicit any further attention from the portraits and various spying spells present in his office. Her stress could be explained by his intimidating presence. Her words had been careful, banal. She shouldn't have used the excuse of the Prefects rounds, since by now, it was obvious that she should have given the timetable to Minerva. But it could pass as her searching an excuse to bring up the subject of bullying. And she had still managed to pass her information on those sheets.

Perhaps she was not so inept a spy, after all.

Now, he only had to determine what he would do with said information.

As he destructed the glamour, various outlines and drawings were revealed and, despite his incredible control, he couldn't prevent one of his eyebrows to twitch up on his forehead at the content of the parchment.

A hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose and he allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment.

How was he supposed to transmit information he was never supposed to have in the first place?

A sigh built up to his lips before he clenched it down.

He had forgotten how complicated and dangerous his position as a spy had been.

As his mind continued to pass through various plans and discard them as quickly as he drafted them, he felt something move in his stomach and a small warmth flicker to life in his chest. A thrill of adrenaline ran through his veins and revitalised him for one of the first times in more than 16 years. A sly smirk slowly spread on his face.

He had forgotten how living felt like.

.

* * *

Next chapter: An important discussion between Harry and the Dark Lord, more on the paper planes and a glimpse at Bill's organisation!

Thank you in advance for reviewing! :)


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Wow! Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed! I am so grateful to everyone who took the time to write me a review :D You guys are awesome! :D

Concerning the last chapter, I feel like I should clarify a point about Hermione. In this story, she has been adopted by the Macmillans (as in, Ernie Macmillan's family?) after she was brought into magical society. I touched a bit on it in Harry and Bill's conversation, but under the Dark Lord's regime, Muggleborns are abducted and obliviated after their first accidental magic. They are stripped of their family name because it would be too easy for them to search for their biological parents if they weren't. Bill also made an allusion to the fact that those who aren't adopted or sponsored are nicknamed 'the nameless'. I would have liked to expand a bit more on society under the Dark Lord's regime, but I guess that we will have to wait until Harry makes it one of his focuses to learn more about it ;)

FanFiction Lover: Could Ginny manipulate the twins? I'm really short on ideas for who the third person could be...Concerning Harry's depressing thoughts well...we all have our moments, right? He's in a difficult situation and keeps getting manipulated, lied to and used. It's not necessarily conducive to good moods if you ask me ^^'

ariana: We are not sure of Snape's loyalty (when are we ever, really?), but it seems like he will try to juggle with a few sides at the same time, to a certain extent. And yes, the light side is trying to kill a lot of success, might I add. Moody seemed to be searching for Horcruxes when Harry was there. But we haven't heard of that for a while and he doesn't seem to have much luck with that task. They are also trying to discredit his regime and get rid of the Dark elite who occupy preeminent positions in the Ministry. That's all we know for the moment.

Guest: Thank you, and I hope you will like this chapter just as much ^^

Warning: slash.

* * *

Chapter 37: 10th of December: Balance

The next month passed quickly. Between my endless tutoring and the training sessions the Dark Lord had scheduled with his Death Eaters, I was quite busy perfecting my skills. I had met up with a wardmaster three times a week to develop my techniques. The classes were the most interesting ones I ever had, but they left me tired and magically exhausted, so much that I neglected my other studies. Since I had only just done my OWLs, for which I should receive the results quite soon, Remus decided that a short break until after the holidays would be good for me. Severus had merely declared that if Remus weren't preparing my Potions with me beforehand, he wouldn't even attempt to tutor me. I had protested that by this time I was not as bad as I used to be and had probably performed well in my OWL in Potions, but he still refused. Damn, but that man was like an unmovable rock. I had probably only been able to put him in his place the first time I met him because I didn't know him as much as I do now. I also half suspected that he could have gotten out of my magic's hold that day if he had wanted, but preferred to observe me from it, as long as I wasn't threatening him or humiliating him.

If I wasn't so busy myself, I would have accused my tutors of neglecting their duties, to be honest. Their attention really didn't seem to be into it at the moment. A break would probably do a world of good to everyone involved.

I hadn't gone back to Grimmauld Place. I told myself that it was because I didn't have the time, and was exhausted, or was leaving Kreacher enough time to do significant improvements before visiting again, but the truth was that I just didn't want to see the Locket again. It was itching me a bit too much to go talk to it again and to learn more about how the Dark Lord used to be when he was younger, and I was afraid of the consequences such a visit could have on my sanity. However, I did want to consult at least the Black Library to find books about Horcruxes and how they worked. I had tried to search here, but the Dark Lord had obviously removed all the references on the subject from his library and probably wanted to be the only available source of information on them, because then he would be able to filter what he wanted me to know or not.

I counted myself lucky that Marvolo hadn't asked me about what happened to make me so shaken when I left last time. Either that, or he felt it and knew somehow. All I could say was that he had a particularly smug smile from time to time and I thought it might be because I hadn't left the Fortress again after that evening. I would take advantage of it later on. For now, my training was keeping me busy enough. My wards teacher had shown me quite a lot of practical exercises and some nice theories I hadn't seen anywhere in the books at the Fortress.

.

One evening at the beginning of the month, I had my first theoretical debate with the Dark Lord. It had started when we were both sitting in his Library. He was working and planning some new legislations and I was reading again a book about wards that I had found interesting when I arrived at the Fortress. I wanted to understand it better than the first time.

At some point, I snorted in derision at what the author said. The Dark Lord, not able to let something slide by without knowing what it was about, as always, had asked me what was funny.

"Oh, it's nothing. The author of this book got something wrong. I can't believe I didn't see that the first time I read it," I explained briefly.

Marvolo lifted an eyebrow at my statement, before he apparently decided that this warranted further investigation. He put his quill down and went to join me on the couch, putting his arm on its back, the side of his right foot coming up to rest on his left knee. He turned to face me, his intense gaze focused completely on me as he waited for an explanation. I felt a thrill pass through me: he came to sit with me, to listen to what I had to say. Not about something important to him, but about something that interested me.

I shot him a small smile before I launched in a detailed explanation of the technique described in the book, comparing it with what I had learnt in my tutoring. Through it all, he kept his eyes on my face, nodding at certain places and humming in approval at others. When I was done, I was sure he was just humouring me and was bored by my long explanation. He turned his head away and rubbed his chin, as if he was contemplating something.

"Don't you think the author's theory would work better on core wards, though? And that yours would be more convenient for area wards?" was his answer. Well, why did I think he wasn't following again? Apparently, Dark Lords had to be experts on virtually every domain. Or maybe it was just a trait of this knowledge-obsessed Dark Lord. I pondered his point for a while.

"Perhaps, but even with cores, the sharper wand movements could overbalance and make them tangle up together. I think that you could use it on decaying core wards if they presented visible holes on the periphery, but for those who are still in good shape, it wouldn't be a viable technique," I argued.

"What about if you completed it with a series of movements like this?" he suggested, taking out his wand and making intricate moves that I had never seen in warding. At a first glance, it looked like it would work. It was brilliant. I was a bit sceptical though, because I didn't think than anybody else than him could reproduce those movements perfectly without messing them up. I told him as much.

He chuckled in answer.

"Where did you find that technique anyway? I've never seen it anywhere," I asked him, intrigued.

He had a smug smirk.

"I didn't. The technique made me think of runic patterns, and I incorporated some of it with another ward breaking technique I've seen when I followed a Gringotts expedition in an ancient Egyptian tomb in the fifties..."

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. If I hadn't known before that the man was a genius, I wouldn't doubt it anymore.

His self-satisfied smile impossibly widened when he saw my gobsmacked face. He took the book from my lap, closed it and waved it to the table in front of the sofa before he scooted closer to me until he was pressed against my side, the arm that was on the back of the sofa now resting on my shoulders. He lifted his left hand and placed it on my left thigh, tracing small circles on it that inflamed the nerves in my leg and made my whole body tingle.

His ruby-red gaze caught mine, before my eyes drifted down to look at his smirking smile and back up at his eyes again. I swallowed reflectively. His eyes darkened when they looked at my mouth and his right hand began massaging the back of my neck enticingly.

"You know, we should have discussions like that more often. You're fascinating to look at when you talk about something that interests you. You make all sorts of gestures with your hands and you pass through so many facial expressions to underline your point. It was quite adorable," he said with a teasing voice.

I flushed in embarrassment before getting a bit annoyed at his ending. I opened my mouth to deny the 'adorable' comment when I saw him smirk at me again. Always provoking me. How was I supposed to answer now? If I defended myself, I'd be playing in his set up, and if I let it pass, it was as if I was letting him do patronising comments to me.

_What to do, what to do?_

I calmed down, sighed once and looked away from his intense stare, feeling a small weight settle on my heart.

"I wish you took me a bit more seriously sometimes," came out of my mouth without my approval.

He lifted his left hand from my lap to my chin, tilting it back up to make me look at him again. His thumb went to rub against my cheek.

"I do, I assure you. You made valid points in your explanation and I'm glad that I can have deeper conversations with you about the intricacies of Magic. Most wizards and witches I've met in my life were completely satisfied with only learning the bare minimum to pass the Hogwarts courses without realising the potential Magic held. It's such a waste, in my opinion. I'm glad you can appreciate Her beauty, to a certain extent, and that you have found something that really interested you outside of fighting."

I felt the pressure in my chest disappear at his words. He really had too much of an impact on my mood. It wasn't healthy.

"Do you think that my Horcrux is stable?" I blurted out.

I hadn't meant to ask him, really, but the question had plagued me for the past month in every minute of free time I had. It was wrenched out of my chest and I couldn't stop it before it was too late. Maybe it was better like that. At least now, I would have some answers.

He frowned at me, looking up at my scar and scrutinising it as if he could see the answer to my question just by looking at it.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned.

I frowned again, thinking of the few times since I had arrived at the Fortress when I had acted out of character, inexplicably jittery, angry or high-strung. At the Rebel Camp, I had been brooding. At Malfoy Manor, I was focused and amused by Draco's antics but already a bit more stressed. Here, my moods seemed to vary in extremes. I confessed as much to the Dark Lord.

"Do you think I'm becoming crazy? Do you think it could be because of the Horcrux reacting to your presence?" I asked him, internally cringing and hoping he wouldn't agree with my theory and resolve to keep his distance from me. I checked his face, trying to determine his reaction to my words. He looked suitably worried, for once.

Then he closed his eyes and brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"I'm a probably the one wizard alive who knows the most on Soul magic, but your situation is unique. I'm afraid I don't know to which extend the Horcrux can affect you...Have you ever interacted with it?" he asked, echoing the Locket's question.

I shook my head warily in answer.

"The only recorded cases of humans hosting more than one complete soul occurred in the context of possession and a physical manifestation of the parasite's presence would appear on his host's body if kept too long. That scar of yours might count as a physical manifestation of the Horcrux, but it does not indicate the presence of a parasite in you because it has not caused magical drain or physical degradation. My Horcrux is not possessing you, of that I am sure. But could it have an influence on you?" he asked to himself, pausing to think before continuing.

"I would tentatively say that, as your own soul is complete and you only host a small part of mine, your soul should have precedence on mine in the control of your body and actions. However, I cannot at this moment disregard completely the possibility that it might react to my contact and affect your mental state," he stated carefully and scrutinised me to observe my reactions to his words.

I frowned in thought. At least, my fear of the Horcrux taking over by itself seemed unfounded. That was a relief. It also seemed like he had not devised a plan to let the Horcrux in me possess me, like I had suspected a month ago in my paranoia. He was a brilliant actor, though, so I couldn't be sure, but the way he took his time to ponder the question and had no ready answers pointed in that direction. The possibility that the Horcrux could weaken my mental state remained, however. And it did look like his presence could have something to do with it. Our current relationship was probably making things worse. I looked at him worriedly, still silent.

"What do you think would help?" he asked, his voice weary.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead as I tried to order my thoughts.

"I really don't know," I confessed after a short while. "I don't...want to end...whatever it is that we have between us. But...

-But if it is making you insane, it's an unacceptable situation," he completed for me. I didn't like the note of finality in his voice. I bit my lips, thinking it over.

"It's not as if it's at that level yet. I think that, maybe, we could do a test," I suggested, even if I regretted saying it as soon as I came up with the idea.

"What sort of test?" he asked, suspicion tainting his tone.

"What about if I passed Yule time at Malfoy Manor? I could see Draco and he wouldn't have to come here to visit me. And well, I suppose it will be a busy time for you, with all the Ministry functions and all...

-If you think it is a busy time for me, it is nothing compared to how the Malfoys will be. They are the ones who take the brunt of the official functions and who organise a private ball at their Manor every year on top of everything else. Do you really want to get caught up in all the frenzied preparations and the compulsive shopping they will unmistakably do throughout the Yule holidays? Lucius told me how fond you were of clothes shopping in particular," he said with a knowing smirk.

Oh, Merlin. He was using very persuasive arguments all of a sudden. I frowned pensively.

"What if I went between Draco's arrival and the raid on the Rebels? It's five days and I'll probably see you before that anyway to settle details about the attack," I suggested. "I just want to test how I'd fare without any contact with you for a while; if it would stabilise me, or the opposite."

He watched me closely for a moment, before nodding his assent.

"I had a trip I wanted to take around that time anyway. I will just do it then," he agreed.

I was surprised that he accepted, but felt a twinge of unease at the thought of him being gone from his Fortress for so long. I wanted to ask him where he would be, but I knew it wasn't my place to ask. We might be in a weird kind of relationship, but if he didn't ask me where I went when I left the other day, I certainly wouldn't ask him either.

I jolted out of my contemplative mood when he started talking again.

"Now, is this discussion quite finished? You looked positively delicious when you were explaining so animatedly and I would quite like to have a taste of you now," he said with a dangerous grin, his hands returning to their previous task of caressing my neck and my thigh.

I swallowed slowly, my eyes widening in surprise at his abruptness.

"Here?" I asked, my voice rough with desire.

He shot a glance at his desk before looking back to me.

"Do you remember when Bellatrix interrupted us?" he asked, his low voice echoing mine.

I nodded in confirmation. How could I forget her 'memorable' entrance in my life?

"I've been wanting to take you on my desk here since that day. I want to see it. You, naked and spread for me on top of all my boring paperwork, like a divine gift, delicious and flushed...ah, yes, exactly, just like that."

I shot a glance at the enormous desk, my face in flames. It looked solid enough, but not very comfortable..._As if that would matter to me_, I thought as desire lit up in me suddenly.

However, with effort, I managed to remind myself of what we had discussed before.

"Don't you think it might make my...potential instability worse? I mean, nothing pulls at our connection as much as having sex..." I said, a bit hesitant, despite my desire for him.

Something flashed in his eyes before he kissed me deeply, violently. I got the impression that he didn't like to be denied something he wanted, even if it was to potentially preserve my sanity. The fact that we had sex numerous times before without causing any noticeable differences might have something to do with his carelessness. For me, somehow, it felt like it would have more impact than before because we had just discussed its possible effect. He convinced me otherwise with his tongue battling mine and with his hands pressing me to him.

_One more time could hurt, right? _I thought, giving in easily, despite the potentially dire consequences.

He got up, bringing me with him. I wrapped my legs around him and gasped when I felt him bite at my neck and shoulder. He carried me for a few steps, his skilful hands roaming over my legs and back. Then he wrenched his head away from my neck and smashed me on the table over all his papers. I grunted at the smacking pain, but it really was nothing. I had become used to being squashed on every possible surface by now. The hurried and near violent grasps of his hands on my body were new, however. The whole process felt...rougher than usual, tainted with despair. A part of me liked it; another felt panicked. It felt like a last time, like a good bye of a sort. I threw myself into the feeling, trying to savour it all, just in case I was right in my intuition.

I didn't say anything about it, but I also focused on what I could feel from my scar, trying to establish whether I had reason to worry. At first, I didn't feel anything strange emanating from there...but as we approached completion, something started pulling at it. I opened my eyes and met his, trying to convey my worry through my gaze. He furrowed his brows and shook his head slowly in reassurance. I nodded in answer and gripped his shoulders tighter, answering the hard and relentless thrusts vigorously.

This time, I didn't feel much of the usual mental intrusion, nor did I get any echo of what he felt. I guessed that he had strengthened his Occlumency shields. His magic wrapping around me and battling with mine still felt as delicious as ever, however, and more so as the pressure built up in me.

My climax felt divine and painful at the same time, breathtaking and gut wrenching. Bittersweet.

When we came down from our highs, my body was covered with bites and various marks. I released a silent sigh of relief. I was still myself. I still felt sane.

I opened my eyes again and smiled slightly at Marvolo. Maybe I had worried for no reason. The five days apart would most likely pass swiftly without a problem. Probably. I hoped.

.

o0o0o

It was a Wednesday and the members of the 'Equality For All' (EFA) were gathered at the Shell Cottage on the seaside. At the moment, they were spread around the living room, discussing in small groups before the reunion began.

In one corner, the host, Bill Weasley, stood next a bubble gum-pink-haired witch. Their heads were bent close together and they were whispering to each other. The two had known each other since their Hogwarts days when Tonks had been friends with his brother Charlie. Shortly after the death of the latter, they lost contact for years as she had joined the Rebels and he had stayed behind to help his parents with his younger siblings. A few years after she had been forced to give up the Rebellion, Bill's peaceful opposition movement had recruited her.

"He's not coming," she whispered at the redhead. "It's been a month and he hasn't come yet. He won't come.

-It's a lot to think about," he defended. "Just imagine how his backing would beneficiate this organisation. He could even make it become an official political opposition. He's really powerful, Tonks. He's so young, but he has an amazing grasp of wards, almost instinctual. I heard from Marchbanks that she had never seen someone do so well in practical test. Never! And she tested Dumbledore for his NEWTs! She probably tested the Dark Lord as well. That kid is powerful!"

Tonks shook her head.

"I know, I trained him for years, but Bill, he's with the Dark now. We lost him. Remus said...

-Remus couldn't say anything because he was under an oath. He just said that he knows that Harry is doing well. You're the one concluding that he joined the Dark Lord. I spoke to him; he really looked intrigued and interested by us. I bet he's only hesitating either because he's under close watch, or because he thinks it's a trap.

-Bill, I know the kid, I saw him grow up. He's an idealist, but he's also blind and naïve. The Dark Lord probably didn't have much trouble convincing him that his regime is fair and legitimate. He might have matured since last time, but I bet that he's still a moody, self-absorbed teenager and was easily swayed. And besides...it wouldn't be very far from the truth if he thought this was a trap. Look," she said, pointing at two newcomers, "your twin brothers are here. How do you think they would react to his presence?"

Bill sighed.

"Fred and George have nothing against Harry. They are just caught in one of Moody's crazy schemes. You know they wouldn't hurt a fly. It's not like them," rationalised Bill.

Tonks shook her head.

"They haven't been the same every since the bomb on the Ministry. I think they had something to do with it.

-What! Tonks! You can't say stuff like that! It's my baby brothers you're talking about!

-Yes! And look where their grief has led them! You were so busy with your wonderful 'movement for peaceful opposition' that you didn't see that they were hurting inside! They were just hiding it underneath all these pranks and jokes...Bill...you've got to talk to them. This can't be allowed to continue. They need your help. Forget about Harry Potter. Forget about all your grand strategies and hopes for the moment. Your brothers need you," said Tonks in a solemn voice that the bubbly witch seldom employed.

Bill sighed and passed a hand through his long hair.

"I will," he said decisively, nodding to himself before he headed their way.

Tonks watched him go and shook her head slowly.

_Boys,_ she thought, _they'd be lost without us to guide them. _

A wave of nausea submerged her suddenly. She put a hand over her mouth, hurrying to the rest rooms and nearly tripping twice on the way there.

_This sickness is really persistent. Maybe I should go see a Healer. It's starting to worry Remus... _

.

o0o0o

The Minister of Magic and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were siting at a table, listening to a team of Unspeakables sharing their conclusions in a grandiose presentation full of conspiracy theories and international threats. All based on a few messages brought to them by paper planes. It was a bit ridiculous, how much attention had been given to them, really. What if that was the Rebels' plan and the planes were just a red herring?

By now, all the former Death Eaters who were given high places in the Dark Lord's government after his Victory had received a mysterious message. All of them, even those who were just put in office as a symbol and were not doing much work for 'their department'.

It was the case with Macnair, for instance, who was the Head of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures but only went to the Ministry once a month to harass his secretaries and give a strong drunken clap on the back of his Undersecretary who did all the job he was supposed to do for half of the salary. It was a bit pitiful, really, and an anomaly in the Dark Lord's efficiency-oriented government.

It was useful, however, to show the population that the Dark Lord knew how to thank those who helped him in times of need. And it worked, because he now had a Ministry full of workers very eager to please the Dark Lord and get noticed for their exceptional 'help'...

Just like this team of Unspeakables, for instance, who had been tasked by the Minister himself to decipher idiotic little messages that were probably written in less than ten minutes by teenagers who thought that the rebellion was 'wicked'.

"...and so, it becomes all clear when one skips over to the tenth word of each message, except for the third, fourth and sixth messages, that the sender wants to warn Britain of its impending doom and that the Rebels are in fact allied with Muggles who plan to release all their dangerous animals from their zoos to attack the magical population," concluded at last one gangly Unspeakable with a triumphant and disturbing grin on his face.

Thankfully, he was the last of the group to present his conclusions. That theory hadn't even been so bad compared to some of the previous ones. Or, at least, it had been nearly plausible before the 'zoo conspiracy theory' came up.

Lucius cleared his throat and frowned, pondering how the recruitment for this little team of incompetent fools had been done. He'd have to have a word with Rockwood after this was done.

He heard Crouch sigh audibly before the latter straightened from his slouched position in his chair.

They exchanged an exasperated glance in a rare show of mutual feeling.

Lucius wondered if he should be diplomatic about his answer.

"This is the worst load of hogwash I have ever heard in my whole career at the Ministry. And believe me, I have heard a lot of unicorn crap in my time here," blurted Crouch. So much for diplomacy.

Lucius cleared his throat again.

"What my esteemed colleague means is that you all seem to have come to...drastically different conclusions and that your presentation was perhaps not the most...coherent one we have had the chance to hear," he said, more politely.

He wouldn't tell Crouch that the Dark Lord always looked at the population's opinion of his Ministry workers to decide whether they should be kept in place. If Crouch wanted to send a political Diffindo at his own foot by being uselessly crude, he wouldn't be the one to stop him from doing so. The man had been obsessed with stealing his job for years now, after all.

"No, I really meant what I said," contradicted Crouch, digging his political grave deeper. "It's as if you wanted to give us the most possibilities you could get from those short messages just in case that, if one of the hundred turned out to be right, you could say that you had it all figured out. Really, now, for you, the author of the messages is alternatively, the Rebels, the Muggles, the Dark Lord himself, Harry Potter, pranksters, Centaurs and Goblins! And, also according to you, it could mean virtually anything between a massive international scheme to overthrow the government to stupid kids in their basement having fun writing the first things that come to their minds."

Lucius reluctantly agreed with the sentiment. This had been a waste of his time. It seemed like Harry, after looking at two of them for less than five minutes, had still managed to get more of the messages than these Unspeakables. The young man did grow up in the Rebellion, after all, so he understood their mindset and strategies better than those pseudo-experts in encrypted messages.

Lucius would probably do a better job than them as well, if given the time to analyse them. However, the whole reason why he had given this task to Unspeakables was to prevent any important person to lose their time on them when they were busy preparing the raid on the Rebels.

He glanced down at the sixth message, which was addressed to Macnair.

_You are like a sloth in his tree, lazing up there all day long and not moving a finger when it sees the world below its feet burning. _

_Careful there, Macnair. Fire spreads. Perhaps you'd be better in a zoo like the rest of us, after all. Controlled environments are not without their own dangers, however. We would know._

Again, with the barely-veiled threats. Again, with the animal analogies. However, so far, apart from his own message of course, they had the personality of their targets nailed down accurately.

It was difficult to believe that there was a deeper meaning to these messages than to keep them on their toes and make them lose time trying to decipher the messages.

Lucius counted himself lucky that they hadn't tried to send anything to the Dark Lord yet. That particular message, for instance, had made Macnair's clothes burn up to ashes within seconds. Thankfully (or not, considering the victim), the man himself hadn't been touched by the magical flames. Only humiliated.

It wasn't hard to see from where the gangly Unspeakable had taken the zoo conspiracy if you looked at this message. Obviously, the authors fancied the Death Eaters as wild animals and the rest of the population as animals in a zoo. Perhaps they were accusing Britain of being an enclosed, monitored environment of social experiments? They wouldn't be too far from the truth if that were the case. Lucius was pretty sure that the Dark Lord was experimenting on Britain different strategies of governance before he started his world conquest. He was fairly sure that those plans were only pushed back by the Muggle menace and the increased presence of Muggle weaponry in rebel raids.

There hadn't been another bomb or any missile yet since the Ministry incident, thankfully; only strange magically enhanced guns, which were worrying enough by themselves.

The Unspeakable directly in front of him started shifting, drawing Lucius' attention back to the present matter.

He couldn't allow such incompetence to continue further. He would bring the messages to his Lord and Harry and they would know how to interpret them. It could even wait until after the raid, if need be.

.

After dismissing the Unspeakables, Lucius headed back to his office at last. He was frustrated. Magic only knew how much time had already been wasted on those idiotic messages.

As his desk came to view, he saw another of those blasted paper planes waiting for him innocently on his desk.

He wouldn't let the thing explode in his face again, that was for sure!

He flicked his wand carelessly at the offending piece of paper and looked on in satisfaction as he saw it burst into flames.

It was only when the paper was completely reduced to ashes that he realised that this plane had been different from the others. That it hadn't attacked him publicly. That it hadn't resisted everything he threw at it. That it certainly hadn't been a Ministry memo. That it wasn't in the same shade of violet as the other ones.

And that now it was burned beyond magical reconstitution. And that he would never know what it said.

Damn.

...

Oh well, it was probably just another childish message with animal metaphors and obscure warnings and threats.

...

Right?

...

The Dark Lord would kill him if he knew.

Lucius glanced around at the empty office.

The Dark Lord would punish him severely if he knew, at the very least. But he didn't need to know.

What you didn't know couldn't hurt you, after all.

...

Too bad it didn't work like that for spells.

.

* * *

I apologise if this chapter was a bit scattered in different POVs. I just wanted to make the story progress a bit on the different sides.

The next one will be Draco's POV only. I think that you will like it ^^

Thank you in advance for reviewing! :D


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yaayyyy! A thousand reviews! :D Now I can die in peace. Or live and finish this story because you, my fabulous reviewers, deserve at least that much for showing me such amazing support! :D Thank you again!

amy: We will eventually know what was in the letter, but not precisely, and not before a good while. At least, that's how I'm planning the story so far.

FanFiction Lover: I think I give up. I said Harry, Voldemort, Lucius and Severus already. Who else could manipulate the twins? Last guess...Sirius? Also, you want Voldemort to disregard Harry's sanity for his own sexual satisfaction? Well. That sounds like him. And Harry is a bit of a horny teenager, so who says he'll be able to stop either? He's just traumatising a bit. And it has to get worse before it gets better again, but don't worry, Harry will not be a weepy wuss about it either. Tonks doesn't know Harry well, I agree with you. Harry has changed a lot since she last saw him, after all. And lastly, yes, I agree with you. Lucius was stupid to burn it, but he didn't think that this one would just..burn. All the other messages had been more resistant than that.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 38th: 15th of December 1997: Draco's return

Draco Malfoy sat in the Hogwarts Express, looking at the scenery passing rapidly before his eyes. He couldn't help but feel a bit nervous.

His fiancée was sitting next to him, presiding a discussion over the upcoming NEWTs to which the other occupants of the compartment were eagerly participating. Astoria herself was a year younger than them, but it didn't prevent her from contributing to the talks and drawing out the interesting ideas put forward by the other 7th years. It was an ability to which most Pureblood ladies aspired, but where most sadly failed because they tended to be too self-centered. Astoria managed it effortlessly. Draco expected nothing less of the future Lady Malfoy, but congratulated himself again internally on making the marriage contract fall to the younger of the two Greengrass sisters.

When the train pulled in King's Cross, he looked at the family and friends gathered to welcome the students. He quickly spotted his parents standing in the middle of the platform, the crowd respectfully standing a few feet away from them and their Aurors bodyguards.

Harry wasn't with them. Draco had been told, when he left for Hogwarts in September, that Harry would accompany them today if he could. 'If he was still alive' had been implied. Nothing in Harry's last letter to him had warned him for this, but he knew that, with the Dark Lord having such a volatile temper, and with Harry being so headstrong, the situation between them could have gone downhill very quickly.

Draco let out a breath slowly, his eyes closing briefly before he adopted his perfect mask again. He felt Astoria squeeze his hand once in support and suddenly felt very grateful for her presence in his life. He looked at her while he was waiting for the compartment to empty. Her blond hair was elegantly twisted and rested delicately on her left shoulder. Her turquoise eyes were watching him with an unmistakable concern buried under a layer of neutrality. Her lips had tightened minutely, expressing loudly to those who knew her well that she was distressed by his reaction. He sent her a quick smile to reassure her. She drew a bit closer to him and whispered in his ear:

"Such a crowd can be distressing. When I was younger, I preferred to wait for my sister at home."

Her words made him feel better. He tipped his head forward slightly, to let her know that he understood and agreed to reign in his fear until he was home.

He exited the compartment and the train with his natural poise. A sea of redheads frantically hugging each other and shouting boorishly temporarily blocked his way. The Mudblood wasn't with them, at least, or she would probably be nagging her little weasel boyfriend. She had opted to stay in the castle instead of returning to her loving adoptive family.

She had been lucky to be adopted at all, in his opinion. Her new family gave her too much leeway; it was positively scandalous. The Macmillans let her publicly deny any real bond to them and shout loudly to anyone who wanted to hear (and the unfortunate bystanders) that her parents were Muggles and that nobody could take away her love for them (even if she couldn't remember their names, let alone her brief stay with them). He had heard a hundred times already the sob story of how she could still fleetingly remember a smell of mint and 'freshness' when she thought of them. Salazar forbid, but he sometimes got the impression that her family let her venture into the Muggle World in search of her 'real' parents. Such behaviour would be properly scandalous, not to mention illegal. Too bad the Mudblood was too clever to say anything incriminating on the subject...

He stopped in front of his parents, his mask carefully in place as the cameras of the various wizarding newspapers blinded him with their flashes. He approached his mother first, kissed her cheek delicately before shaking his father's hand vigorously. His arm went back around his fiancée's waist, nodding elegantly to her before facing his parents again.

"Son," said his father ever so coldly in his usual public persona. "I trust you had a good journey?"

"I did, Father, thank you," he replied.

He turned to his mother, who looked strangely flushed and, dare he think it, slightly less...slender than usual. He barely kept an eyebrow from lifting in puzzlement on his forehead. It wasn't like her to let herself go so.

"May I ask how you are faring, Mother?"

Narcissa Malfoy had a cool smile for his son.

"Never better, Draco, I assure you. And what of your lovely fiancée?" she asked.

He turned to Astoria, giving her the permission to answer for herself.

"I am well, thank you, Milady," said Astoria, curtsying lightly.

His mother nodded in acceptance.

His father lifted his head imperiously and declared that it was time to go back home.

Astoria bid her farewell and returned to her family while the Malfoys Apparated back to their Manor.

.

The entrance parlour was empty. Draco heaved a deep sigh, failing to keep his composure. If Harry wasn't here either, this didn't bode well.

His father saw the defeat in his posture and attempted to reassure him.

"Draco, it's not what you think, he is..." he began, before a loud voice coming from the corridor interrupted him.

"Stop it! I can't believe you! I had to change my clothes three times already because you just keep adding to them. I'll have to dress with a high-collar like Snape if it continues!"

Recognising Harry's voice, Draco hurried to the door and opened it. Harry was standing with his back to the wall and his hand readjusting the collar of his robes nervously, glaring at the Dark Lord who was standing close in front of him, a teasing grin on his face and his red eyes nearly sparkling in amusement. This was a flabbergasting sight.

"Harry!" he called, his voice dripping in relief. Too much of it, judging by the evaluating look the Dark Lord sent him.

"My Lord," he said in a solemn and reverent tone, trying to compensate...And being too obvious at it, judging by the amused look Harry sent him this time. He was losing his touch after all that time at Hogwarts.

"Well, brat, I'll see you in five days. Try not to go look for trouble in the meanwhile," said the Dark Lord to Harry in a teasing and (dare he say it?) nearly...fond voice.

His friend glared at the Leader of Britain in answer. Gryffindors, seriously. How had he even survived that long?

"I never go look for anything! Trouble finds me!" protested Harry, before calming down marginally. "But yeah, see you in five days, I guess. And good luck with, you know, whatever you're doing and wherever you're going."

Obviously, the mystery of the Dark Lord's destination was plaguing Harry and he was fishing for answers.

The Dark Lord just smirked at Harry before he nodded at him and turned to nod at Draco's parents before he left the Manor. Draco didn't receive a nod. He hadn't thought he would. The Dark Lord barely ever acknowledged his presence, for some reason. Sometimes he thought the Dark Lord still saw him as a whiny little child...

Draco snapped out of his thoughts and drew closer to Harry excitedly to catch up with what their brief letters couldn't have contained in the past four months.

.

o0o0o

A while later, his parents, Severus, Harry and he were sitting at a richly decorated table. His parents always made his first meal back at home a bit special, but Severus' presence was unusual in such occasions. His godfather was a long-standing friend of the family, but he normally preferred to isolate himself in his Headmaster's tower for the Yule holidays.

Draco wondered why this year's welcoming dinner would be the exception. Because of Harry, perhaps? No, the two of them had bickered back and forth during the meal. They obviously never got completely over their initial animosity. In Severus' case anyway. Harry looked like he was enjoying the verbal sparring...

Speaking of Harry: he looked a lot happier and healthier than he had in the summer. Draco hadn't thought that a sojourn at the Dark Lord's Fortress would have had such a result on his disposition. Civilisation suited him, in any case.

Draco ate his delicious dinner (Hogwarts' cooking had never quite managed to equal the quality of his meals at the Manor), thinking over the scene he had witnessed between Harry and the Dark Lord. They had been standing strangely close to each other. They had been teasing each other. The Dark Lord had been amused. And nearly smiling! That was unheard of for Him! And it wasn't a normal behaviour when you are talking to your enemy. It nearly look like they were...flirting?

Before he could absorb and evaluate his strange hypothesis, his father cleared his throat to get their attention. He noticed that his mother was blushing. Blushing! In front of guests! Granted, it was only Harry and Severus, but still! What was happening here?

He felt so out of it after months at Hogwarts. Much had happened when he was away and he would find out what!

"Severus, I know you are probably wondering why we invited you today..." began his father.

"No, actually, I was wondering why you felt the necessity of inviting Potter here while I was present. Had I known of this unfortunate circumstance, I would have stayed at Hogwarts. I was so looking forward to a Potter-free Yule season," answered Severus in his snarkiest tone.

Harry inhaled sharply and drew himself up in indignation before painting on a calm mask and turning to Severus.

"Why do you persist to act as if you despised me? I know you don't. You even wished me good luck before my OWLs," shot Harry with a satisfied smirk.

"Brat, I only wished that you wouldn't fail so that I would be rid of this frustrating tutoring engagement the Dark Lord insisted I do.

-Ah, so you don't care which note I had, as long as I passed it, then?" asked Harry with an eyebrow lifted.

"You got your results already?" Severus inquired, unable to keep his curiosity completely out of his tone.

"Indeed," answered Harry in a self-satisfied voice.

"And?

-I passed. Of course. All of them. Even History of Magic, imagine that," Harry said, leaving it at that, knowing that Severus probably wanted to know the exact grades, but wouldn't ask for them after Harry had teased him about it.

"Which grades did you get?" Draco intervened. Those two could keep going forever, really.

Harry shot him a frustrated look for having ruined his 'let's annoy the Magic out of Severus' plan, but he answered anyway:

"I got O's in all my practical exams and, well...EE's and A's in the written ones."

Draco felt his eyebrows lift in surprise.

"That's really good. But I thought you told me you didn't have much problem with the theoretical ones either. What happened?" he inquired, puzzled.

Harry became beet red. Another first for tonight. He glanced around as if he was shy to explain what happened. That wasn't a Harry behaviour. He might not have known the other for long, but, from what he had seen, Harry was never this abashed when he made mistakes.

"Yes, Potter, pray tell what happened that shamed you so. I dearly hope for you that Potions wasn't one of your A's. I worked too hard at tutoring you to accept that," cut in Severus ever so helpfully.

"I, well, they said that they didn't manage to read my handwriting in a couple of questions...and that, in some cases, there were too many grammar mistakes that they didn't even try to decipher what was written," admitted Harry, his head bent down slightly and looking at his plate.

After a second or two, he suddenly straightened up again and looked at Severus with a defiant glare that was more like his usual behaviour.

"It's not my fault if the Rebels didn't think that handwriting and grammar were essential for the future killer of the Dark Lord!"

A heavy silence fell over the table. It was as if they had forgotten that this was what Harry came here to do. Draco hadn't, but he just thought that there was nothing he could do about it and that he should just try to enjoy his first genuine friendship while it lasted. He glanced at his father. The latter was looking at Harry as if he wanted to question him further, but was stopping himself. He probably knew something Draco didn't. Draco turned his eyes on Severus, who, to a trained eye, looked somewhat pained. Was he more attached to Harry than he had let on earlier?

"I'm not sure what is going to happen about that though now..." he heard Harry say in a hesitant voice, looking around the table at their reactions.

"What do you mean?" blurted Draco uncharacteristically.

Harry sighed and bit his lip nervously.

"I think that, maybe, I don't know, but I think it would be better if I just forfeited," he confessed.

Everybody drew in a startled gasp at the unexpected declaration.

Lucius cleared his throat noisily before asking in a strangely strangled voice:

"Harry...has anything happened? About...what we discussed after the Ministry attack?"

Draco turned an incredulous stare on his father. _What is he talking about? What does Father know?_

Harry shook his head in denial.

"It's not that, it's just...I don't understand why I'd have to kill him, or why I'd have to fight him at all. It's not as if I chose to follow the Rebel ideology at any point. It just...doesn't make any sense! This regime isn't so bad. Ok, there are some bad things, but you don't assassinate the leader of a government when you aren't satisfied with everything that is happening in it. Especially not when you are trying to argue that you would bring democracy and justice in your next government...And you don't send a fucking kid to do it for you, for Magic's sake!" exploded Harry. He had started his explanation in a nearly demure voice, only to grow progressively more frustrated and angry as it drew to a close. The last few words were shouted. It had made Draco jolt in his chair involuntarily.

Harry slid his hands through his hair and pulled at it while his head bent down and he breathed in and out deeply. He looked...unsettled. Like he was having trouble to keep reign over his emotions. In Draco's mind, an image of how happy and content Harry had looked that afternoon when Draco arrived from the Hogwarts Express came up in contrast to how he looked now. Dishevelled. Jittery. A bit panicked at his own behaviour.

His face blanked suddenly, a stoic mask in place. Since when had Harry learnt to put on façades like that?

"I apologise for my outburst, Lucius, Narcissa. You had nothing to do with it...I think you had something to announce, before the conversation side tracked on the subject of my OWLs, hadn't you?" diverted Harry in a polite and detached voice.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at the abrupt change of subject. He glanced at his wife, who shrugged minutely before nodding.

Draco wondered what this was about. He watched his parents in suspicion. They still looked content together. His mother looked radiant, in fact, now that he looked at her closely. He mentally sighed in relief. They were not about to announce a separation or anything of the kind, at least.

His father took his mother's hand, smiling kindly at her before turning back to him.

"We have known for a while, but we were waiting for your return, Draco, to announce it officially. Narcissa is pregnant. At the beginning of April, you will have a sister, Draco."

He felt as if lightning had just struck him. His mother? Pregnant? That explained the sudden weight gain, but...he was nearly seventeen and he was supposed to start his own family in just a few years. Why now? He would have loved to have a little sister when he was younger.

"Why now?" he croaked inelegantly. Thank god they hadn't decided to announce it in front of a crowd. His reputation for being smooth in all situations would have been ruined.

"Well, after a discussion I had with our young guest here, I decided that it was time to take control of my life and have the second child your mother and I always wanted," answered his father in a patient tone.

Draco turned to Harry, who looked just as surprised as him, and back to his father. And back to Harry.

"You told him to go and produce more children? What is wrong with you?" he accused, indignant.

Harry spluttered and shook his head rapidly in denial.

"No! I didn't! I have no idea what he's talking about!

-Draco," interrupted his father. "Draco, look at me. Harry said something, and it gave me the idea, but we didn't talk about children per se. He didn't know that your mother was pregnant either, so you can stop looking at him like he betrayed you. I have to know, though, are you alright with this, Son?"

His voice was careful and understanding. As if he was speaking to a small child. Draco felt robbed of something precious. He would never be his parents' only child, their only focus anymore.

He huffed out a sarcastic chuckle.

"It's not as if it would change anything, if I was alright or not. You took the decision by yourselves without asking me how I'd feel about it.

-Yes, because we are your parents and we are the only ones who have the right to decide whether we have more children or not," said his father in an authoritative voice.

"It's creepy!" he cut in, although he knew he should probably be silent now. "I'm seventeen! My baby sister will be young enough to be my own child!"

He heard a chair scrape on the ground and turned to see Harry stand up.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I will leave you to discuss it between yourselves. I don't feel really good; I'm just going to my rooms. Congratulations, Narcissa. I know that your daughter will be very lucky to have you as parents," said Harry with a small smile that looked a bit pained. He exited the room, swiftly followed by Severus, who murmured his congratulations before saying that he would be waiting for Lucius in his study afterwards.

So, he had created a scene that had made the guests flee the dinner table? It wasn't as if he wasn't bringing relevant questions out. He frowned and turned back to his parents. Secretly, he didn't mind so much about the pregnancy. Having a baby sister would be nice as well, and it might prepare him for when he'd be ready to have his own children in a few years with Astoria.

But he was going to make his parents pay for keeping him in the dark for so long and for announcing it to others at the same time as him. He should have known well before anyone else. He was the big brother, after all! A small warmth lit up in his chest when he thought of his future little sister.

Another Malfoy. An adorable little girl.

_Oh, Salazar,_ he thought worriedly. _I'll have to beat the boys off her with a Beater's bat._

.

o0o0o

That evening, Draco was sitting in his parlour, staring mulishly ahead, thinking of everything.

After his parents explained it all, he had felt quite foolish for his reactions against Harry. It wasn't as if the other had done something against him. If anything, Harry was surprisingly open with him in their correspondence.

He got the feeling that there was something more happening with him, though, and that his father knew at least part of it, judging by his not so subtle comment at the dinner table.

Harry had looked quite troubled before they switched to his mother's announcement. Draco wondered why Harry had reacted so strongly.

He decided to go see the other young man. Remembering what the latter had said about not feeling well, he decided to go check Harry's rooms first to see if he was there. He knocked at the door, but nobody answered him. He opened the door silently and poked his head through the gap. The bedroom was dark and empty. He left the guest wing, wondering where Harry could be. He went to check the duelling room, just in case. It used to be one of Harry's most frequented rooms in the Manor, after all.

Indeed, he heard sounds of violent hits, tearing and breaking when he got closer to it.

He opened the door, only to stop in shock at what he saw. By now, he'd become used to see Harry training and to stumble upon him in the middle of a fight against spelled dummies. But this wasn't training. This was destruction. Long pieces of fabric were lying in every corner of the room and some were hanging from the chandeliers on the ceiling and the walls; the sand that filled the dummies covered the ground, their bodies disembowelled and their metal structure lying uselessly like skeletons in the middle of the desert. Harry was standing in the middle of the carnage, his head bowed down and his wand resting at his side uselessly. He seemed to be shaking slightly.

"Harry..." whispered Draco, stunned.

Harry snapped his head up and pivoted to face him, green eyes glinting strangely. They widened and cleared up when he recognised him.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" he asked calmly as if he hadn't just obliterated all of his father's duelling dummies in one go.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait if you...still don't feel well."

Harry shook his head and waved lazily in the direction of the dummies, which started to reconstruct and refill themselves under his magic. Slowly, the room was put back in order and soon the dummies were put away in their corner.

"No, it's fine. Let's go," was his delayed reply.

Draco preceded him out of the room and led the other back to his private parlour. They took place, Harry looking around in curiosity.

"Nothing has changed since last summer," he remarked.

"Of course not, I haven't been here since then," Draco replied, hesitating slightly on how to continue.

"Harry, you know I didn't mean the accusation I sent you earlier. I was merely surprised and my reaction to this important piece of news was rash and inappropriate. I hope you know that I didn't mean any of it."

Harry smiled at him a bit teasingly.

"Was that an apology? 'Cause I think you forgot an important word in it. It's called 'sorry', you pompous git. And it would have been sufficient without all the flourish you added.

-A Malfoy never says 'sorry'. That word is for the common people, for those who make mistakes. We both know that I am too perfect to ever need to apologise so crudely. I might commit a slight blunder from time to time, but never to such a degree," Draco said, lifting his nose up in the air in parody of his own behaviour.

Harry burst in laughter. When he calmed down again, he looked happier than before and had a healthy glow to his cheeks.

"Alright, annoying brat, I accept your gracious apology. I know the news must have been a shock for you. How are you holding up?" he asked solicitously.

Draco shrugged and looked to the side listlessly.

"Well, it's not as if there's anything I can do about it at the moment. I don't know what I think of it. You can't imagine the amount of times I pleaded with them when I was younger to have another child so I could have someone to play with, and then you come along and make one vague comment to my father about controlling his own life and they decide to have a baby now when I'll be gone from the Manor and having my own family in a few years?" He sighed. "It just feels so absurd. I'm fine, though. I'm not angry or anything. It will just take a while to get used to the idea.

-But it's a good thing, right? You're going to be a brother like you always wanted," Harry pointed out.

Draco nodded.

"Yes, it's a good thing. Definitely unexpected, but good. And who knows, maybe it will reduce a bit the pressure Astoria and I will have on us about having our heirs early," he reasoned.

Harry's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"You think they'd have forced you to have kids right after Hogwarts?"

Draco shook his head.

"Not forced, no, but strongly encouraged? I don't know. For all I know, Astoria will still want children early. She's been talking about her dream of becoming a Healer recently, though, so we might have to wait a few years for her to get her formation before we start a family.

-How is it going with her, by the way?" asked Harry.

"Oh, it's doing good. We are getting along well and I feel that she really wants to support me in my life...she's the perfect Malfoy wife," he revealed. He suppressed a small smile when he thought of his fiancée and how she had supported him today.

Harry lifted an eyebrow at his words.

"Isn't that a bit boring, though? I mean, I hate to have people decide things for me. If I had had a betrothal contract, I think I would have pitched up a huge fuss and refused to marry the person by principle, even if I'd like them..." confessed Harry, relaxing back on his chair, loosening his collar.

Draco frowned when he saw the skin on Harry's neck that had been revealed. It nearly looked like there was...a bite mark. He gasped at the sight. Harry stiffened, closing his collar back up and shielding his whole neck from view before he got up and went to a mirror in the corner to make sure nothing was apparent.

Draco got up and followed him there, gripping the collar and peeling it back.

"Salazar! It looks like a savage beast got to you! Look at the size and the colour of that one!" he exclaimed, trying to poke at a bruise before being harshly pushed away by Harry.

The other was flushed in embarrassment and looked mortified. Draco chuckled.

"Aww, come on! You found someone! It's great! Who did you meet at the Dark Lord's Fortress? There's got to be some nice secretaries working for him, right? She got to be a little vixen to leave bruises that big! Where's the problem in that?" he smiled indulgently to Harry, who looked impossibly ill at ease.

Draco frowned and narrowed his eyes at him.

"No, seriously, why do you look so anxious? If you don't want the Dark Lord to know about it, it's fine. I can keep it for myself," he offered generously. It's not as if the Dark Lord would care if Harry had found someone, after all.

Harry snorted in disbelief and only shook his head.

"No, really, I can keep a secret, you know. I didn't tell anyone about the practice duel we had, right?

-Right, because your father walking in on us duelling didn't make the whole 'secret' aspect of it void already," teased Harry.

"Don't change the subject! So, who's the lucky girl? Come on! I want to know!" Draco insisted with a smile.

Harry sighed and looked at him fixedly.

"It's not that simple," he declared flatly after a moment.

"Why not?" pushed Draco, now frowning.

"The Dark Lord...doesn't want people to know what is happening in his Fortress," continued Harry hesitantly.

"What do you mean 'what is happening'? My father goes there all the time! I think I'd know by now if there were orgies and sex parties going on, or anything scandalous... Oh, Merlin, you're not in love with a prostitute, or a slave or anything of the kind?" he asked, horrified.

Harry startled and looked bewildered before he started laughing for no reason and shaking his head.

"Ok, no prostitute or slave. Good. A Mudblood, then?" Draco tried again.

Harry stopped laughing immediately and looked at him with a sneer.

"Don't use words like that. My mother was a Muggle-born. And slavery of humanoid creatures above a level two of consciousness is illegal, by the way, or so said the Dark Lord...I thought you'd know it, with your father being the Minister and all," said Harry, now looking suspiciously at him.

"Well, I thought that maybe the Dark Lord was the exception to this law," Draco explained to be appease him. He had no idea if such a law really existed, but he wouldn't contradict his Lord about it.

Harry shook his head.

"Anyway, there aren't any orgies or parties at his place, so no, I didn't meet any 'nice girl' there," he answered with a mocking tone.

Something clicked in Draco's mind suddenly.

"A nice boy, then?" he asked.

He hadn't thought that Harry was queer. In his preconceived notion of the Boy-Who-Lived, he had always imagined Harry going out with a redheaded Gryffindor girl like that Weasley chit, matching in a disturbing way his parents' couple on the picture he'd seen of them. Apparently though, the real Harry insisted on destroying all the stereotypical ideas he had of him.

"Something like that," conceded at last the secretive young man.

Draco came up to him and seized his arm, whining:

"Come on, come on! I got to know! Who is it? The suspense is killing me!

-Draco, stop that!" said Harry, while trying to pull his arm out of Pureblood's grip.

He pouted petulantly.

"I don't understand why you wouldn't want to tell me whom you met at the Dark Lord's Fortress. You said you didn't meet many people there, so it's not as if He wou..."

He stopped abruptly. Then shook his head, then paused again and then looked at Harry in disbelief.

"It's not...Him...right?" he asked hesitantly.

Harry just stood there rigidly, looking at him without saying a word.

Draco blanched.

"You know, there's quite a gap between deciding that you might not want to duel him anymore, and being his lover. I was still getting slowly over the first and I can't even begin to wrap my head around the second...How long has this been going on?" he asked, trying to be marginally tactful, but seriously, he was flabbergasted.

His eyes drifted down and he looked at the other boy's collar again. He choked.

"You mean it's Him that made those bruises? HIM? Oh, Magic and the gods above...Am I stuck in the middle of a nightmare? I am probably sleeping. I am, right?" he asked Harry.

The latter shook his head in denial.

"Oh, Circe and Morgana...Seriously, how long has this been going?

-Since the beginning of September, more or less."

Draco exhaled slowly, lifting his hand to rub his forehead.

"Let me get this straight. You have been the Dark Lord's lover for the past...four months and that's the first I hear of this?" _No wonder I felt so out of the loop! And my father probably knew about it too? And didn't even tell me!_ It was positively scandalous.

"I understand if you feel offended by the secrecy, but it was complicated... and it's not as if we were in an official relationship or anything..." Harry continued as an explanation, before Draco's loud snort interrupted him.

"No, no, of course not," he replied in derision.

-What are talking about, Draco?" asked Harry with a puzzled voice.

The blond shook his head.

"Of course you aren't in an official relationship. The Dark Lord doesn't do relationships. He has lovers that he fucks hard into the bed and discard when he's not satisfied with them anymore. He breaks them, then he throws them away like they're rubbish. And to him, they really are. I don't know what you were thinking when you got into it, Harry, but nothing good can come out of this...'thing' you have with the Dark Lord," warned Draco warily.

Harry shook his head in denial.

"No, you don't understand, it's not like that. I'm different from his past lovers.

-Harry, they all think they'll be the one who gets to stay by his side forever; they all hope that, no matter how horribly the Dark Lord treats them..." Draco said tentatively.

"He doesn't treat me horribly. I mean, yes, sometimes he's a bit rough, but I like that too, you know?" Harry's face was completely red by now. "And, well, it's a bit more complicated than that anyway...I can't tell you why, but I know that our relationship is not like that. He's different with me."

Draco pondered this. He had seen the Dark Lord briefly earlier that day, and the man did look strangely...happy. Usually, after a few months, he'd be bored and ready to pass to the next. Like he had done to Draco's cousin years ago...

"I know you said you can't tell me why you think your relationship is different, but can you at least give me something? I'm slightly...I'm worried for you, Harry. Can you give a hint, to reassure me?" he pleaded, knowing he was playing with the other's compassion, but he really needed something to put his worry at rest.

Harry sighed, and relented.

"Alright, how about this. He lets me call him Marvolo in private. Do you know anybody else who is allowed to do that?"

"His name is Marvolo?" asked Draco, furrowing his brow in puzzlement.

Harry frowned at him in return.

"You don't know his real name?" he replied, his voice incredulous.

"Hey, not everybody here grew up in the rebellion. How should I know his name? I know 'My Lord' and 'Voldemort' and that's sufficient...and, you're right, I've never heard of anybody receiving that kind of permission...but then again, maybe he tells that to all his lovers and we just wouldn't know because they can't speak about it," Draco pointed out.

Harry huffed in disbelief, but suddenly looked a bit worried.

"So you mean they are still alive somewhere? Thank the gods I never met any of them...

-You might have, they just can't speak about it," revealed Draco.

"What do you mean? He made them take an oath of silence, or something like that?

-Something like that...only, more disastrous I'm afraid. If they intend to speak about it at all, they die in excruciating pain. It happened a few times years ago, but by now, they really know better," explained Draco.

Harry shook his head.

"I don't even want to think about it. But, see, I didn't have to take an oath like that, doesn't that prove something?

-Yes, that for once his lover has more than him to lose if his status becomes known," he reasoned. "But, anyway, Harry, regardless of if he's serious or not...the Dark Lord has never kept a lover longer than a few months. Doesn't that worry you?"

Harry sighed.

"Of course it does, but I have stuff planned for when that happens. I'm not going to hang around to get to know my successors, you know? I've got another place to go, people who might support me...Don't tell anyone that, though," he replied before looking at him worriedly. He really should. He had just confessed that to the Minister's son, after all.

Draco frowned and pondered the question. Suddenly, a sly grin took over his face.

"You know, I might be persuaded to keep silent about it if you answer a question for me..." he suggested, before pausing to see how Harry would respond. His friend nodded briefly, biting his lip nervously.

"Blaise and I at some point theorised that he had put these oaths because he was afraid of people talking about...performance issues...or maybe...size problems? So...since you didn't make any oath of silence, can you please tell me how the Dark Lord is in the sack?" he pleaded eagerly.

Harry burst in incredulous laughter.

"As much as it would be funny to ruin his perfect image and take his ego down a few pegs, I really can't fault him on any of that. I won't go into details, but I'll just say this: he's got nothing to be ashamed of and he's a bloody genius in everything he does. Everything," revealed Harry with a shit-eating grin before winking at him (winking!) and exiting the room quickly before Draco could ask for precisions.

Dammit. He should have known. Now he lost ten good Galleons...

.

* * *

Voilà! A bit of a lighter chapter here. I know I seem to be throwing pregnancies in right and left those days, but this one is more important than the possible multicoloured cub ;)

How did you like Draco's relationship with Astoria? It won't be important that much, but I wanted to put a rest on some people's worries that Draco might have a crush on Harry. Draco, in this story at least, isn't gay. The only declared sexual orientation I changed in here is Harry's.

So, next chapter is the rest of Harry's sojourn at the Malfoys and the result of his little experiment. So far, it already looks as if something is itching him, right? And he still has 4 days to go...

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to drop me a line to tell me what you thought of it ;) See you soon for the next one!


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yayyy! Thank you for your support everybody! Don't let me down now that I've reached a thousand reviews, I still need your help to keep me going and see this project through! :)

FanFictionLover: Last try: Dumbledore. And you're sweet to worry about my health! That's a bit why I've reduced the speed of my updates, actually. I had a big buffer already written, but I always have to add in scenes and revise it and now that I'm in my end of semester rush too, well, let's just say that it takes time and energy. ^^'

ariana: Let me know if you find your question again, but I won't apologise for writing something that you like ;)

* * *

Chapter 39: 18th of December: While you were gone...

The days slowly stretched forward at Malfoy Manor. I felt like everybody were running at an accelerated speed around me while I could only move like a slug.

The Malfoys were caught in a whirlwind of preparations: for the upcoming raid, for the official Ministry ball that was planned for the 23rd, for the Malfoy ball on the 26th, for the Dark Lord's birthday celebration on New Years' Eve...it was a never ending flurry of activity. I thought I'd be safe from it since I'd leave again on the 20th, but I had been caught in the hurricane and I felt overwhelmed.

At the Rebel Camp, Yule season was a lot tamer than that because there were fewer people, because we had less money and because we had less reason to celebrate.

Another problem was that it seemed to me as if, with every day I passed at Malfoy Manor, my head got fuzzier and my thoughts unfocused. My temper had worsened and my magic felt agitated and itchy.

I was longing for the Dark Lord. I couldn't sleep the last few nights. I felt drained of my energy. I had concluded pretty quickly that doing a test by staying apart more than a day was stupid and reckless. For me, at least. As far as I knew, the Dark Lord wasn't affected by that at all, wherever he was.

I couldn't feel anything through the bond. That was another thing that worried me. Was it still there? Was he working on cutting our connection, or something like that? Was he blocking it because he was...with someone else and didn't want me to know? I didn't even know if he'd bother enough to block his feelings if he did that. He hadn't given me any sign that he was becoming bored with our relationship or anything of the kind, though. It was probably only Draco's words from the other day and my paranoia at work here.

It didn't help my slowly deteriorating state, however.

.

At the moment, on the evening of the 18th, I was sitting on an elegant upholstered couch, listening to the Malfoys bicker about colour schemes for their ball. I didn't know why they had insisted on my presence for this particular discussion. Lucius wanted the ballroom decorated in blue and silver, the Malfoy colours. Narcissa and Draco preferred green and silver, in homage to their allegiance to the Slytherin House. I had thrown in 'red and gold' at the beginning of the discussion to bring a bit of Gryffindorness to the debate. They had shot it down quickly and had gone on and on and on about season colours, and family blazons, and heraldic codes and alliances without paying attention to me.

A head-splitting headache had appeared in my forehead and behind my eyes sometime during the discussion and it was gnawing at my patience.

My foot had started tapping on the ground about half-an-hour ago. Draco had shot me two death glares to make me stop since then, but I had absentmindedly returned to it a few seconds after. I felt as if there was something growing inside of me, like a ball of restless energy waiting to explode.

I couldn't focus on the discussion. The only thing I could think of was how badly my head hurt and how my foot was tapping on the ground and produced weird vibrations through the floor. I couldn't get it to stop. I couldn't get them to stop their stupid, useless, idiotic conversation either. Why did I even need to be there if they were not taking my suggestions into consideration anyway? Why was I even here in Malfoy Manor at all? Why wasn't I with the Dark Lord? What was he even doing?

My hands grasped my hair, pulling sharply on it to wake me up. It brought a bit of focus back to my vision, but everything was still blurry. I blinked slowly. Nothing changed. The voices around me sounded like they were underwater. A dull ringing resonated in my ears. I looked around. The Malfoys were still engrossed in their conversation and not paying any attention to me.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and felt my head spinning. After a while had passed, a hand touched my shoulder and a sharp sting of electricity travelled through it. The hand withdrew immediately. I opened my eyes. Draco was cradling his arm close to his chest. Lucius' mouth was open and moving as if he was talking, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I narrowed my eyes at him. It didn't help. Narcissa took her husband's arm, but did nothing else other than look at me in worry. What was happening? I looked around confusedly, squinting through the fogginess. The room had become colder all of a sudden and a thin layer of frost covered the tea cups placed on the low table between us. I shuddered before I realised that I was the one producing the cold. I felt my magic pulsing around me erratically. My control on it was slipping and the cups had started to shake on their delicate saucers.

I needed to see the Dark Lord. I had told as much to Lucius that morning when I had started to feel really bad. He said that he couldn't reach his Lord. That he'd come back tomorrow. I couldn't wait anymore. I was going insane, I knew it. I'd hurt somebody with my uncontrolled magic if I stayed in Malfoy Manor. My eyes drifted to Narcissa's pregnant belly. I couldn't risk hurting their unborn child. I was dangerous. I had to go. I had to leave.

My eyes grew round at the realisation that I was a danger to my friends and my mouth fell open. I tried to articulate something, but I failed.

I stood up quickly, nearly tripping over the low table in the process, gathered my last remaining focus and spun around into an Apparition. The last thing I heard was their loud panic shouts.

.

I crashed on the top step of Grimmauld Place. The Locket, the Horcrux would help me if the Dark Lord was absent.

"Kreacher," I croaked with difficulty.

The Elf materialised in front of me and stared at me with his rounded globe-like eyes.

"Pop me in...Regulus' room."

I felt myself be transported and I landed in front of Regulus' old bed. I saw the drawer and stumbled to it like a drunken man, my vision swimming.

I opened it and grasped the Locket with desperation. The cool metal felt good against my palm. I shuffled to the bed and let myself fall on it before passing out, the familiar dark blue magic at last wrapped around me.

.

When I woke up, everything was dark and my scar was burning fiercely.

"Ow..." I groaned, rolling around on the bed, burying my head deeper in the pillow to try to ignore the pain. My cheek connected with warm metal. I opened my eyes suddenly to look at what I had touched.

It was the Locket, practically vibrating with energy by now.

_Greedy bastard,_ I thought at it. If he had sucked the insanity and the dizziness along with the magic though, it suited me fine.

A new spike of fury passing through my scar made me bend in half with my palm scrubbing over my forehead to dull the pain unsuccessfully.

"Ow, ow, ow," I groaned, grabbing the Locket and throwing it back in its drawer before stumbling down the corridor and slowly trudging down the stairs, still hunched down. It must have been a particularly pathetic sight.

I sighed when I reached the Apparition point, straightening up with difficulty. Outside, the moon was up in the sky and it was a cool December night. I hadn't brought a coat with me, so I shivered and spun around to the Dark Lord's Fortress.

.

I crashed on the ground inelegantly. I heard shouts around me, but the only thing I could concentrate on was the sweet (and angry) magic unfurling around the entrance parlour.

I heard a voice bark something and sounds of Apparition, and then nothing. The energy drew closer to my still prone body. I tiredly opened my eyes to look at the Dark Lord.

His brow was creased in worry, but there was also a fading remnant of insane anger in his ruby-red eyes. Maybe our days apart had also affected him a bit. I gave him a faint smile and slid my hand forward on the carpet toward him. He took it in his indulgently. I heaved a deep sigh of contentment at the familiar warmth and magic.

I jolted slightly when I felt arms slide under my neck and my knees and gasped in surprise when I felt myself lifted in the air and placed against his chest. I couldn't resist turning my face toward him and inhaling deeply his comforting smell. I heard a chuckle escape his lips.

"What?" I asked groggily.

"You're like a kitten. The only thing missing is a purr," he teased in his annoyingly sexy voice.

"Not a kitten. Man. Manly man," I grumbled, snuggling closer to his chest.

He barked a laugh. _Damn smug bastard._

"Stop being so loud. 'm tired. Wanna sleep," I protested.

He snorted. Loudly, of course. And then he dumped me on a bed unceremoniously.

"Hey!" I protested weakly at his treatment. I sleepily pushed my pushed my shoes off and rolled under the covers. When I didn't feel him join me, I cracked open an eye. He was just standing there, looking at me with a weird undecipherable expression.

"You're not sleeping too?" I articulated with difficulty.

"I would, but you are wearing far too many clothes to make the prospect attractive," he said with his usual teasing grin.

"Pervert," I accused, but I still made my clothes magically vanish in case he was serious.

He chuckled again and a few seconds later, I felt him slide in under the covers behind me, his warm body wrapping around mine. I sighed in contentment again.

"Hmm...You're perfect. Never leave again," I grumbled, half asleep.

I felt his head bury itself in my neck and nuzzle the skin there.

"I won't," I thought I heard him whisper before I fell into a deep slumber.

.

o0o0o

Severus stalked back to his High Tower. His ample robes billowing behind him majestically would have made an impressive sight, but sadly, anyone who wasn't a Death Eater kept up by an angry Dark Lord in search of his wayward lover was already sleeping.

The whole thing had been a loss of time. They had only stood there, waiting as all the scrying charms had failed to locate the brat and getting tortured for their incompetence. Of course, no one had dared point out that the Dark Lord's spells had failed just as spectacularly as theirs and that it was a waste of time and energy to punish them for that. The brat had been behind thick and old wards, that much was certain.

There was a moment, in that frantic hour between the Dark Lord announcing to them that Harry had disappeared and the brat's return, in which he had felt worried about his Potions pupil. Lucius had taken him aside when he had just arrived and had confessed that he thought that there was something quite wrong with the child. He had been tempted to dismiss Lucius' concerns, but the Dark Lord's attitude only seemed to confirm them.

The image of Harry collapsing on the ground at his arrival and lying there, unmoving, didn't seem to want to leave Severus' mind. What had happened to him? Had he been kidnapped by Mad-Eye? Had he left the Dark Lord of his own volition? And if the brat had seconds thoughts on his allegiance, where did that leave him?

The most surprising element of that late night visit at the Dark Lord's Fortress, however, was the worry his Master had displayed. Granted, Voldemort had only appeared angry, but it was obvious to anyone with as much skill in analysing body language as he had, that the Dark Lord had been nervous. And worried. For someone else than himself. And that was more than unusual.

Severus flirted with the tentative thought that perhaps Harry's foolish decision to embark into a dangerous pseudo-relationship with his prophesied enemy might just yet produce unforeseen consequences on the Dark Lord. An adjacent idea followed the first, unbidden. What if Albus, may his soul already be joined with Magic, had been right and the power described in the Prophecy really was love?

He shuddered at the candid notion, trying to dismiss it right away, but the thought, now expressed, would not let go of his sleep-deprived brain.

He prepared for bed in swift, precise and efficient movements.

Now lying down, he let himself think of the possibility.

What if the Potter brat, for all his idiotic charisma and naïve strength, had managed to make the most dangerous and powerful Dark Lord of the past century care about him? What if, by actively trying to forget about the Prophecy, they were in fact contributing to its fulfillment? What if Potter could only defeat the Dark Lord if he had managed to make the latter care about him?

Severus pondered the question while he scrutinised the star-filled ceiling above his bed. Had Albus done the same in his time and had his crazy schemes been elaborated in this very bed? Perhaps it was the setting that contaminated his thoughts with sentimentality.

He could not help but to think that, even if Potter was to win in an eventual showdown against the Dark Lord, given the current circumstances, the young man would be losing either way. After all, Severus knew something of the survivor's guilt.

There was a time in which, given the choice, he would have wanted Potter to win. Then, after years of a relatively peaceful existence as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he might have wished for his Master to just get rid of the nuisance, even if the brat was Lily's son. Now, for the first time in his life, he was not sure of where laid his loyalties exactly. The lines had blurred as the peculiar and nearly sacrilegious relationship between two strong wizards fated to be enemies developed and held true. The fight had stopped being between good and evil, right and wrong, Light and Dark. And, if one could believe the information given by Hermione Macmillan, it had become a struggle of 'us' against 'them'. And it somehow made his task all the more obvious.

And so it was that Severus Snape, a man of divided allegiances, took the decision to fight whole-heartedly for the survival and improvement of the Dark Lord's regime, nearly 14 years after its instalment.

.

o0o0o

One day later, 20th of December

.

Just as morning dawned on the Rebel Camp, an owl swooped down to a young man still sleeping soundly in his bed.

Neville groaned and buried his head deeper into his pillow. However, the owl wouldn't let him ignore him so easily and nipped at the boy's neck. Neville jolted away from the beast with a shout, one hand covering his sensitive skin.

His annoyance disappeared once he realised who had probably written the letter and what it meant for him.

Nerves shot through him and his stomach grumbled ominously as he took the parchment and read it.

Today! Harry would come to pick them up and bring them to safety!

"_Just stand outsides the Wards with Everybody that you fond and ill be their and pick you up and bring you to a saifehouse." _

At last, he won't have to play hero anymore and maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be able to go see his parents again!

_At what time did Harry say he would come again?_ wondered Neville, looking back down at the letter.

Harry said he'd send his Patronus fifteen minutes before he'd arrive, so to make sure that everybody would be ready in time. He also said not to tell anyone until then, but Neville disregarded the advice. After all, even if those who wanted to escape with him today had been discreetly packing their essentials for the past weeks, they needed to know more than 15 minutes in advance that they would need to leave! Some of them had lived here for the past 15 years, nearly! They needed time to say goodbye to their friends and family.

Maybe Harry was scared that the Rebels would try to capture him if they knew he'd come. He was, after all, putting himself in jeopardy just to get the neutrals out of this place.

How much time was necessary to finish packing, really? By now, everyone should be more or less ready. What if he just told them after lunch? Who knew when Harry would show up...maybe they would still have a few hours more to prepare then?

Suddenly, the realisation crashed down on him that he would not be sleeping again in the only bed he'd ever remember having, that he would never wake up to the same room, never see his garden again, never have his meals in the communal area, or meetings with the Council...actually, he was quite looking forward to never see the Council members again.

Moody hadn't get livelier in the past months, but he had at least stopped trying to train Neville to be the new Chosen One. He was never here those days. Always out, always busy with his mysterious contacts and everything. The only thing that made him come back was the reunions of the Council, and even then, he was only here to deliver harangues about how the Rebellion was stronger than ever, and how it was recruiting allies left and right and even overseas despite the 'set back' with the Ministry Bomb.

Personally, Neville would have more called the event of the last Samhain a 'disaster' and a 'monstrous act' and he hadn't been able to stop himself from twitching every time he heard them refer to it in a positive light. Then again, he was still jolting every time Moody barked 'Constant Vigilance', so he must have a pretty poor resistance.

Animated with a stressed energy, Neville finished packing his bags as quickly as he could without making too much sound. He was sharing his house with the Edgecombe family, after all, and even if they said they wanted to go with him today, he didn't want to wake them up so early and tell them what was happening.

.

He must not have been quiet enough, however, because he soon heard a sharp knock on his door. He hurried to answer it, but tripped on a potted plant he had temporarily placed on the ground while he moved his things around.

Neville fell on the floor with a muffled curse and a dull thud.

By the time he picked himself up again, the door was already half-opened and the curly reddish-blond hair of the youngest of the Edgecombe appeared in the door frame.

"Neville, are you alright?" asked Marietta, coming into full view and looking around the room. "You fell again?"

He brushed himself off with a sigh and bent down to straighten the poor plant up again.

"Yeah, yeah. You know me. 'The One Chosen to Have Two Left Feet' or something like that," he joked in a familiar routine between the two of them.

When he didn't hear an answer, he turned around and froze in place. Marietta was reading the letter!

"I just received it. I was gonna tell you," he defended himself.

She looked sceptical and worried.

"Right, that's why I've heard you move stuff around for the past hour or so. You could have told us, you know. We have things to pack too," she accused him.

"Yeah, but you've seen in the letter, Harry told me not to tell anybody until 15 minutes before! I'd have told you earlier than that, but I get why he wouldn't the others to know. He puts himself in danger for us, you know," he tried to explain.

She huffed once in derision. She had never been a fan of Harry ever since he turned her down years ago.

"Right, and if the Great Harry Potter tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked? Don't you think it's a bit out of character for him to just come back here and save us like a knight in shining armour?" she said, trying to hint at something.

"No, I think that Harry is a good guy, and that he knew that some of us didn't want to be associated with the Rebellion anymore, and that he's doing his best to get us out of here," reasoned Neville.

"If he really was doing his best, he would have come back months ago.

-I only asked him for help in November," he contradicted her. "And it takes time to set up a safe house for all of us! What are you on about, Marietta? Don't you want to go too?" he asked, getting frustrated at her.

"Of course I want to go! But there's something fishy going on! I bet you that it's not to a safe house that he'll bring us, but to a prison! We can't trust him!" she declared, running out of the room suddenly with Harry's letter.

"No, Marietta, wait!" he shouted, stumbling after her, forgetting his wand in his bedside table and realising it only seconds after he left the room in pursuit.

He bounded down the stairs as quickly as he could, nearly tripping a few times, but catching himself on the banister.

She flew through the door and out in the village before he could catch up with her.

As soon as he was out of the house, a Leg Locker caught him and he fell painfully on his face. He lifted himself up on his elbow and threw a hand forward where he could see Marietta running to the center of the village.

"No, don't do that!" he shouted desperately.

She stopped at his shout, pausing, and turning back to him for a second, the letter crumpled in her left hand, as she held on tight to her wand in the right. Then, she shook her head in denial and breathed in deeply. In just a few words, she could completely ruin everybody's chance to escape the Rebel Camp unscathed and sign Harry's death sentence.

Neville begged his Magic to cooperate with him to silence her, but knew it was in vain as she opened her mouth and emitted the first sound.

Then, his face twisted in silent horror when, instead of shouting to announce to everybody what was going to happen, Marietta cried in agony as lashes of black flames erupted from the letter and wrapped around her, ploughing red furrows in her pale skin.

She crumpled to the ground and the fire, as quickly as it had been ignited, extinguished by itself, the damage done.

Neville pushed forward and crawled as quickly as he could to reach the prone form of his childhood friend, but others, drawn by her screams, reached her before him. When he got close enough, they had already made the diagnostic: she was in a coma with a severe magical depletion. Neville frowned his brow and narrowed his eyes as he reluctantly looked at the marks left by the fire. There, carved in the skin in long bloody ribbons spiralling around her face and body were etched the word "Sneak" repeated over and over.

He barely felt when the Leg Locker hex was replaced by an Incarcerous. He only realised his dangerous position when they pulled him away from the unconscious girl to shove him against a nearby wall. The looks of fury on their faces did not bode well for him.

He could only hope that Harry would come earlier than later and would somehow find a way to enter the wards to pick them up.

.

Harry did come eventually. Only, he brought an army with him. And a Dark Lord.

* * *

...

As you can probably guess, next chapter is the long-awaited attack on the Rebels by Harry and the Dark Lord's forces.

In the meanwhile, you could tell me what you thought of this one ;)


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. (I wonder why I even bother with these. Isn't it obvious?)

Yayyy! Thank you so much to my faithful readers and reviewers! Keep it up, the story is far from over and I have lots of things planned for the next chapters! :D

FanFiction Lover: I should have guessed it earlier for Dumbledore, really. I guess I was stuck in my little fantasy world where he's been dead for 15 years. Wait, it isn't exactly a little world now that you are all reading about it, right? :P I agree with your conclusions about Dumbles. There was so much he could have prevented, so much he could have influenced from his position of power. He could have dealt his cards way better for everyone, but I guess that everybody makes mistakes. His are only more costly because of his big load of responsibility. I also agree with you when you say that every conflict boils down to difference in opinions, interests and perceptions. I think that Severus might have meant a specific 'them' though. We'll just have to wait to know the info he's got from Hermione to know whom he meant.

At one of my reviewers' request, I'll try to do a little summary of the previous chapter in the AN from now on.

So, last chapter, Harry went back to Voldemort after a disastrous (for his mental state) experiment, Snape finally settles for a side in the conflict and Neville is in a sticky situation after Marietta tried to reveal Harry's rescue plan to the rest of the village.

Warning: poetic violence and gore

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Chapter 40: 20th of December: the Attack.

Lupin, the annoying Metamorphagus Auror and Lucius' brat were standing in a triangle around Harry, an arm extended touching him as he chanted the incantations they had designed with the help of seasoned wardmasters.

According to the plan, since those four were the last to voluntarily leave the protection of the Camp indefinitely, this should allow them to take control of the rebels' wards and transfer their ownership to someone else who could put the lockdown in effect and prevent the rats from leaving the ship once they realised that the Dark Lord's forces were there.

The Dark Lord was looking over the proceedings with an alert eye, his Minister standing nervously at his side. It had been decided that Lucius would be the one holding the wards while the rest would attack. Severus and Draco would stay behind to protect him while Lucius' attention would be occupied. Lupin and the girl would be portkeyed out along with the Longbottom brat and the other Rebels who would be giving up peacefully as soon as they took over the wards. That had been one of Harry's demands.

Voldemort couldn't care less about those useless Rebels, but he wouldn't have enough fun torturing helpless little cowards to be worth antagonising Harry over them.

The young man's reaction to his absence was worrying him. He was also worried by his own reaction; even it wasn't by far as excessive as Harry's. The Dark Lord had felt a strange agitation in his youngest soul piece. It had been enough to make him restless and puzzled. It was intriguing.

He had hastened back home on the night of the 18th because he had a hunch that he was needed, only to find a completely panicked Lucius waiting for him.

Harry had Disapparated. Harry had left Malfoy Manor. Harry had vanished. No tracking charm had worked and they didn't have any blood sample or family members to do Blood Magic. To top it off, Harry wasn't in any state to defend himself. His sanity was cracking, like he had feared.

The situation had been disastrous. Lucius' worry had quickly bled over to him. In the hours while they were deciding what to do and where to go search for him, he had built plans to punish Harry appropriately for his foolishness that had ranged from brutal sex to torture sessions. He had been furious, incensed, feeding all his frustration through their link.

From the experiments they had done on it, he knew that Harry's scar would burn if he was sufficiently angry. His little Horcrux wouldn't feel comfortable anywhere else than with him.

But he had felt so relieved when he saw Harry crash down on the floor of his parlour that he had completely forgotten his plans of retribution. The young man had looked horribly exhausted and drawn; his scar had bled and painted half of his face in a gory mask. What worried him worst, however, was how faint his normally bright and sturdy magic had seemed. When he went to pick the young man up, he had felt something ease inside of him.

As he went to bed with him, he had been surprised by Harry's mushy confession when the young man was at his most vulnerable. Harry wasn't prone to verbal demonstrations of love and affection. It had been a relief, at first, but now that he almost felt...affection toward his young lover, he was nearly worried by the other's silence on the question. It was absurd. He didn't even know what he felt toward Harry. Part of it was fascination for his strength of character and a desire to crack the puzzle and understand Harry's actions and way of thinking, yes. Possessiveness, naturally: the young man was his Horcrux, after all. Attraction and a certain fondness, of course, but that had been there months ago. And that warmth that he sometimes felt when he looked at his cheeky brat...but he preferred not to dwell on that.

He shook his head minutely to bring himself out of his ridiculous sentimental thoughts and back to the present day. He detailed Harry's form as the young man performed the complicated warding spell. He had insisted on wearing his combat attire instead of his robes. The Dark Lord hadn't complained because it gave him a fabulous view of his lover's firm muscles and fine derriere on top of protecting him better. He felt desire course through him before he clenched it down. Now was not the time. It was absurd that Harry still aroused him so much after all that time.

It surprised him how their relationship had progressed in the past months. He had always thought that the minute he'd see one of his lover on a regular basis or develop a routine, he'd become bored. But, with Harry, it felt both comfortable and challenging at the same time. The young man a surprising amount of respect for him, considering his upbringing, but he didn't fear him and wasn't afraid of snapping back witty remarks or even playful was not a dull minute with him and he seemed like a bottomless well of potential as he tackled wards, battle strategy and magical philosophy with enthusiasm and intelligence. He was beginning to understand why the Prophecy had named him as his equal, even if it would take Harry years to be anywhere near him in knowledge and ability. Harry had a refreshing enthusiasm and fascination for the essence of Magic that was unusual for someone who had grown up in a magical environment. The Rebel Camp, sadly for Harry, did not seem like a hub of intellectual pursuit and magical explorations...

He saw the wards flicker and Lucius stepped up to Harry, as was discussed. They joined hands and he felt the wards shift. When they were set, his men and he got in the barriers quickly. They had about five minutes to get the neutral ones out like he promised Harry before the Rebels, who probably felt the shift in the wards as well, could reach the barriers and escape.

He glanced at the young man who was standing a few paces ahead of him, breathing deeply because of the complex and draining magic he had used and looking quickly around for the Longbottom brat who was supposed to be waiting for him. It seemed like he wasn't there. The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow at that, but quickly deduced that something had gone wrong in their plan.

Longbottom probably leaked the escape plan to one Rebel too many. Good thing the plan had been changed and that they hadn't told him there would be an attack. If his clever little curse had worked, the culprit would be easy enough to spot, if they were still alive at all. At first, Harry had been opposed to the idea, but he had wielded to his demand in the end. With good reason. Anything else would have been foolish. It was too much of a golden opportunity to squash the Rebels to let it be ruined so easily.

Harry had told the boy that he would pick up anyone who wanted to leave the rebellion at the edge of the wards and had said that he would send a Patronus fifteen minutes before he arrived, so to be ready to walk over to the borders of the wards any day. They had set up their own Anti-Portkey and Anti-Disapparition wards before sending it away. Harry had seemed...strangely reluctant to show his Patronus, and had changed the plan so that an owl would be used. This hesitation on his part was puzzling and it went to join a growing list of things his young lover was attempting to keep from him. Attempting was the key word here. Harry wasn't nearly as good at hiding things from him as he thought. And he could deduce most of it while giving his lover the impression that he trusted him enough to wait until Harry was ready to tell him at his own pace. The relationship dynamic was coming easier to understand every day. It reminded him of psychological warfare theory, and he had always excelled at it...

In fifteen minutes of preparation the rebels would have, traps had time to be activated, but elaborate strategies couldn't be constructed. And now that the Dark Lord was in the Rat camp at last, he wouldn't let this opportunity for a massacre pass because the fleas thought they could fight back. He had brought many of his good Death Eaters with him, including Bella who was nearly frothing at the mouth at the thought of an upcoming battle, and some of his most loyal and ruthless Aurors as well. They would have a good fun, trap or not.

He nodded to Rabastan, who went to portkey out the wolf and the Metamorphagus and to tell Lucius to activate the lockdown.

Harry turned to him, his emerald eyes blazing in determination and an eyebrow lifted in question. That the young man deferred to his authority pleased him and the Dark Lord nodded in answer. They made their way to the camp followed by his men, sending detection spells and looking for magical traces indicating traps.

After a while in which they had only disarmed a few pitiful ones that looked like they were designed for animals and not the Dark army, they arrived in the vicinity of the camp.

The Dark Lord indicated to his servants and the Aurors to spread around and encircle the village. In theory, the wards were in lockdown so the Rebels wouldn't be able to escape even if they did bypass them, but he didn't want to spend hours playing hide-and-seek in the woods to find this vermin, so he had decided on this compromise, even if being so spread out it reduced their safety. He didn't think the rebels would be enough of a challenge to need as many people as he brought. They were only there to encircle the village or in case the rebels had elaborated a complex trap. His men were grouped by threes to maximise their freedom of movement while protecting the flanks of the central figure of the team.

At the moment, the camp looked deserted. They couldn't hear the usual bustling of people busying themselves to cook and clean. It looked like a miserable place to grow up; it was definitely not made for children. He stole a glance in Harry's direction to evaluate his little Horcrux's mental state. They were about to attack and kill a good portion of those with whom he grew up, after all.

The young man was standing straight and confidently with a steely and determined look that hadn't left his eyes since he woke up that morning. His magic had stabilised after the night and the day they spent together, much to their shared relief. It was now tightly wrapped around him like protective armour, waiting for an opponent on which to lash out. Harry seemed to sense his glance and turned his head to look at him from his position a bit further out on the side, a small empty smile gracing his lips. Ideally, to balance their forces evenly, Harry would have gone on the opposite side of the village completely, but the Dark Lord wanted to keep an eye on his Horcrux, so he placed him a few Death Eaters down to his right. His little set-up with Rabastan had be useful to assuage some of his doubts about Harry's aptitudes in fights and had only confirmed him that, by keeping Harry on his side, he had already won the biggest part of the fight against the rebels and acquired their trump card for his own benefit.

.

He cast a Sonorus on himself and a charm to allow him to look through the buildings that were blocking his view. The rebels were gathered in the middle of the village and some of them looked like they were shoving others. A few were standing on the rooftops and looking down at what was happening on the ground.

Fighting among themselves? They were even more pathetic a resistance than he thought.

"Attention, Rebels, you are surrounded. I do not wish for magical blood to be spilled uselessly. If you surrender peacefully, you will be Portkeyed out to a safe house and trialed, but won't be harmed. Aurors are here to oversee the procedures and make sure that nothing goes amiss. However, if you decide to foolishly persevere in your little rebellion, you will be summarily executed for High Treason. I strongly suggest that you think of your children and elderly before taking a rash decision."

He nearly rolled his eyes at his own words. He could feel surprise rolling off his followers and his Aurors...The things he did to maintain his image of respectability. It was horrendous.

He shot a look to his little Horcrux, who was smiling widely to him now, pride and gratefulness radiating from his emerald eyes. He sighed minutely. More like, 'the things he did for that brat', really.

He took comfort in that, at least, he wouldn't have to censor the press that much this time. They had plenty of witnesses of his 'good will'.

He turned his gaze back on the village from which he could now hear various voices shouting and children screaming. With his magically enhanced vision, he could see the adults steering the children away and hiding them in what was, according to Harry's plan of the camp, the small school building. So, they didn't trust him enough to take up his offer of safety for the harmless and innocent? Oh well. He couldn't be held responsible if something happened to them, then.

He saw some adults struggling and wanting to run away from the main group, but they too were steered, brought to the school and probably locked inside.

He shook his head in mock disapproval. The school building was too close to the center of the village to be really safe during a battle. But, no matter. At least now, his troops could kill everyone they saw and still respect Harry's conditions, as long as they didn't touch the school directly.

He spoke to his followers' mind directly to order them to leave the school building alone and made the count down for the assault.

Before he reached the zero, he heard the detonation of bullets being fired. His shields had been put in place since he had seen the people on the rooftops earlier. They seemed to have aimed for his head. How quaint. A newly ordained Death Eater to his left was the victim of a badly aimed shot and crumpled down with a shout. Hmm, it seems like it was magically-enhanced bullets and the pierce shields weaker than his. Interesting and revealing.

He lifted his hands and spread them forward; sending his magic down toward the snipers perched up. He snatched them down from the roofs all at the same time and smashed them on the ground in one sweeping gesture. They crashed with a resounding thud and whimpers of pain following the ominous crackles of broken bones.

Continuing as if he had never been interrupted, he gave his signal and his forces moved forward as one, spreading according to their plans and sprinting towards the center of the camp.

They quickly met fierce resistance.

The magic surged and clashed in a battle of will. Soon, screams of agony resounded in the cold December air.

It surprised him mildly that the rebels were holding their own so well, but the parasites' numbers were diminishing quickly.

The Dark Lord let the joys of massacre carry him away for a moment. The spells were whizzing around him, lighting up the air and weighting it down with warring magical energies. The shouts of pain composed a symphony that only he could hear and the sudden spurts of blood painted a red masterpiece of violence on the dirt roads and surrounding buildings.

He reached the center of the village easily, killing the vermin left and right in the most painful and creative ways possible. It felt good. It sated a hunger that had gnawed at his soul for too long. He'd definitely invade France if that would guarantee him such battles and satisfaction.

His younger soul piece stirred at his thoughts as he split open a young woman from head to toe in a sharp twist of his wand. She had been pregnant. Oh well. The baby died with her; there was nothing he could do about it now. He looked around to see if Harry had witnessed that. It would probably disgust his innocent Horcrux and make him angry with him. He'd come around eventually, he was sure, but there was the small problem that Harry could interpret it as a violation of their agreement. And that could slow down the trust that was slowly building between them. He hadn't forgotten that he needed to make the young man forfeit the Duel soon, after all, and such a setback in their mutual trust might hinder the process.

He needed not have worried. Harry was too taken by his own fighting to notice what was happening on the Dark Lord's side of the battlefield. He observed his Horcrux fighting while distractedly protecting himself from a poor attempt at an offensive.

The young man was magnificent. He was twisting and turning as was his usual strategy, but this time shooting back powerful curses and hexes that made his opponents collapse quickly before his wand. The light of the curses flying wound him made his green eyes shine of an Avada Kedevra colour. It was a delicious sight. For the moment, however, Harry wasn't killing anyone, only duelling them to submission, tying them down and pushing them aside to rest against the walls of the houses. It was slightly disappointing, but understandable considering Harry's personality.

Voldemort looked around, trying yet again to spot Moody, that mad ex-Auror that had been a pain in his ass for so long. His lips twisted in a sneer of disgust at the thought of gruffly man. He couldn't spot him. He did see, however, Bella in all her glory and madness, killing and torturing at every jab of her walnut wand, her eyes alight with delight and insanity, cackling gleefully. Rodolphus was at her side, ready to intervene if she got out of hand but with an indulgent smile on his face as he was supervising his enthusiastic wife and sending his own spells back to his attackers.

How the man managed to stay loyally at his wife's side despite her deteriorated mental state was a mystery to the Dark Lord. It must be the fabled 'power of love' Dumbledore kept yapping about until his very last moment...After all, the old man's last word on this plane of existence had been "Gellert".

Why Voldemort had kept it quiet instead of grabbing his chance at humiliating and discrediting the old leader by revealing to the world that Albus Dumbledore had been in love with his predecessor, was a mystery. Perhaps it was simply too absurd and he didn't think that anyone would believe him. If he ever told Harry, the brat would probably tell him that it was a compassionate move on his part.

Perhaps there was something to be said about how jealous he had momentarily felt towards Grinderwald when he heard of Dumbledore's lasting love for him. Not because the old man interested him, (_Never that_, he thought with a mental shudder as he viciously tore the head of a tall rebel off his shoulders with a swift cut of his wand) but because the former Dark Lord had inspired such deep and strong feelings to someone who was diametrically different in his views and approach.

There was something dramatic and interesting at the thought of a love between people so drastically opposed in their magic. It wasn't totally unlike the improbable relationship he currently had with his 'prophesied enemy'. Sometimes it felt as if Harry and he were so different that they were drawn to each other inexorably.

He shook his head in disdain at his own mushy feelings. He felt as if he was turning into the old Headmaster. The next thing he'd know and he'd be wearing colourful robes and eating sweets all the time. It was sickening. He made the next Rebel explode in a shower of blood and guts to compensate. There, that was better. The old man would never have done something like that.

He glanced at Harry again. There was no way he had missed that particular kill: the blood had splashed in all directions at about three meters around the body.

He frowned when he looked at the young man. Something was off.

Harry was dancing around the spells, looking strangely relaxed as he was shooting back...something from his wand. Voldemort couldn't recognise any spells, however.

It was as if Harry was only feeding some of his magic inside of his wand and letting it decide the effects it would have. His head was strangely titled backwards and eyes closed in a picture of elation. The magic was crackling in the air around him, so thick that it looked nearly palpable. His opponents kept adding to it, shooting powerful curses at his little Horcrux. They were also shouting at him what was probably personal insults and jabs for coming back to his old village with the Dark Lord's army. Harry seemed serene and unfazed by them. It wasn't how he had thought that the young man react in such a situation, particularly if one accounted the dead bodies littering the ground around him.

As he felt warmth and power flood his own magical core from the soul link, he understood: _Magical trance, of course_. He hadn't seen someone fall into one for years, but it happened sometimes with powerful individuals who were living through their first large-scale magical battle. He remembered his own fondly. He had never felt so in tuned with Magic than under the trance. It had felt like a divine revelation, like he had been part of something greater, of a higher omnipotent power. He had torn up the battlefield with his precious gift, ripping open the ground and swallowing entire battalions in one burst of power. It had been intoxicating. He had craved Her embrace for years after that particular happening, searching deeper and deeper into the darkest of Magic to find a way to live through it again. After years had passed and he had degenerated into a sort of snake hybrid and rendered nearly insane by his shattered soul, he had resigned himself: he should consider himself lucky to have felt it at all. And now Harry had managed it. And he could live some of it through him. The Magic was delicious, heady. He wanted to close his eyes and surrender to it, like Harry was doing at the moment, but he knew that he would kill everyone indiscriminately if he did, including his men. Some of them were preeminent members of his government and servants who had loyally served him for decades. Not to mention that he needed to preserve the magical blood, and these were members of some of the oldest bloodlines in Britain. So, regrettably, he couldn't let his grip on his magic slip.

He sighed wistfully and let the power flow through him, channelling the residue saturating the air around him and directing it to the rebels who were still standing and fighting. They all burst open at a twitch of his fingers, splattering organs and limbs in a rain of blood and tinting the central square in hues of vivid crimson and dark burgundy.

He exhaled slowly through his mouth, delighting in the afterglow and the feeling of peace that settled inside of him.

A startled gasp drew him from his silent contemplation. His little Horcrux was looking around frantically, on the verge of panicking.

The Dark Lord turned to one of his generals.

"Rabastan. The battle is over. Go portkey the rebels who surrendered to the safe house. We will begin the interrogations tomorrow. None of them is to be harmed, but none of them is to escape either. Is that clear?" he barked at his Death Eater.

"As you wish, my Lord," Rabastan replied, bowing.

He sent a telepathic message to Lucius to lower the wards temporarily and to put them up again when he and the Portkeys would be gone. Perhaps Moody or some other Rebels were still lurking around, hidden somewhere. His men would instigate a search in the forest surrounding the village.

In the meanwhile, he had to get Harry out of here. He walked up to his distraught lover and wrapped an arm around him before Disapparating to his Fortress. When they reached his parlour, he cleaned them of the blood with a wave of his hand and sighed, sitting on the couch and pulling Harry down at his side. The young man was looking at his hands with wide terrified eyes.

"You didn't kill them. I did," he said, knowing that this was what Harry was fretting over.

He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"It was a magical trance, wasn't it? Were you under it as well?" his young lover asked. As if the Dark Lord needed that to justify his actions.

"I wasn't, but it bled over somewhat through our soul link. The children were hiding in the school and are still safe and sound, if you are wondering."

Harry shook his head.

"I remember. Just like I remember that you weren't the only one killing in that battle. Under the trance, it just felt so...easy...so natural. It was like I was the most powerful person in the world and all the rest were just puny little creatures not even worthy of licking my boots. I didn't even care that I knew them; that I had grown up with them. They were just...insects blocking the way. How could I think that? How could I do that?" Harry stopped suddenly, before turning to him. "Is that how you feel all the time, sitting at the top of the country?"

The Dark Lord thought of his reply carefully. Obtaining power through a sheer amount of magic temporarily taking over one's body or through political domination over a country was quite different, after all.

"Not exactly, but I guess this taste of power could have given you a hint of what my position at the top of this country entails...or of why I would bother with politics at all. The thrills of seeing them scrape at your feet, bow before you and surrender their will to your own feel just as delicious. It is as if they are at last acknowledging a truth that you have known all your life; that you are better than all of them; that this is the right order of things...Power is intoxicating, seductive, don't you think?" he said, looking at his Horcrux from the corner of his eye and detailing his reactions.

Harry frowned at his words, thinking them over. It surprised him that the young man had calmed down so quickly after what had just happened. He supposed that the reality of it hadn't settled in yet.

"It's too much. I felt like I had no control over my own body. I..." Harry sighed, shaking his head again. "I don't think I want power. I think I just want a peaceful life. I'd get my 'thrill', like you said, doing some Wardbreaking from time to time and that would be enough for me..."

The Dark Lord burst in thrilled laughter at his lover's confession.

"And this is why you, my little Horcrux, were made for me," he said, wrapping an arm around the other's shoulder.

Harry looked puzzled by his comment.

"What do you mean? Are you going to start sprouting nonsense about soul mates again?"

The Dark Lord felt a twitch of annoyance grow inside him at the disrespectful tone, but it vanished when he saw the teasing smile on Harry's face.

"Why, you ungrateful brat. Don't you see that it's an honour I bestow upon you by simply gracing you with my presence? You should feel thankful that I favour you so.

-Yes, yes, I do, of course, oh Magnificent and Magnanimous Leader of this Nation," Harry replied, getting up and bowing exaggeratedly to him.

He smirked at the younger man, a perverse grin taking over his face.

"Do that again, facing the other way," he ordered Harry.

The teen stopped his movement mid-bow and turned around confusedly to face the back of the room.

Voldemort gripped his hips and pulled them sharply to his lap. He saw Harry's face become completely red.

"Ahh, yes, hmm, that wasn't what I had in mind..." stammered Harry

"Shut up, brat. The Supreme and Magnificent Leader of this Realm has deemed you worthy of his bed tonight. You have pleased me today, my little Horcrux," he said in a low voice, his lips close to his lover's ear and a hand caressing his hip sensuously.

Harry snorted. The Dark Lord thought he should have felt offended, really, but he is too busy feeling relieved that there would not be another comforting session to do again that evening. All the drama was draining, after a while.

"Yes, I suppose that the whole day what quite the ego boost for you. And now, what? You expect me to submit to you so easily after I felt all that power just minutes ago?" teased Harry with a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You never had a problem with it before, or do I have to remind you of all the times you have obediently spread your legs for me and begged for me to take you?

-I never begged!" shouted Harry, who had straightened up on his lap in offense.

"Perhaps not verbally, but your body says it clearly. It craves my touch, my attention," replied the Dark Lord while lightly grazing the young man's torso with his fingertips. He heard the other's breathing immediately grow shallow and he smirked at the reaction. He started to nibble on the smaller man's neck, his other hand trailing downwards to rest against Harry's awakening arousal. His lover's eyes closed and Harry tilted his head back to rest against the Dark Lord's shoulder.

Harry suddenly shuddered and drew away from him.

"This is wrong. I should feel...soiled. I killed those people. I'm a murderer. I feel like I should be curled up in a ball right now and sobbing my life out for days. The battle was horrible and so...bloody," he said, before pausing and shooting him an annoyed glare. "I saw that fountain spell you did, by the way. It's supposed to be used to dig up wells, not on people."

The Dark Lord had a careless shrug.

"Creativity in spells is key to having interesting fights. You thought I'd use boring Killing curses? After all those years of endless paperwork and peaceful negotiations? You don't know the amount of times I have stayed my hand when I wanted to punish incompetent paper pushers. I finally could find an outlet for my frustration and you thought I would just get rid of the opposition so painlessly?"

Harry shook his head at him in disagreement.

"Not necessarily, but Gods, that spell was disgusting. And so was how you finished the battle. I should at least be vomiting right now, seriously. I don't understand why I'm not."

The Dark Lord observed his lover with narrowed eyes.

"I rather prefer your current reaction. It saves me the daunting task of dealing with a distraught lover. There are more interesting ways to celebrate another victory and the end of one of the rebels branch, after all."

Harry frowned at him.

"So you think the Rebellion will continue even after today?" he asked.

The Dark Lord thought about his answer carefully.

"Moody wasn't there today, so I expect to hear from him in the near future. There's no way he'll just give up his ridiculous enterprise, even if it's so obviously doomed for failure. Apart from that, well, his underground network of supporters is extensive and may be persuaded to join in the more active movement. Also, after the Ministry bomb, we suspect that they are allied with another new group that you didn't mention in your notes.

-Do you have any suspects for whom it could be?

-Considering the nature of the attack, we have considered the Muggle government, but this possibility has been deemed unrealistic. If the Muggle government was really allied to them, we would have been bombed systematically and much more viciously than that single time. There would have been gunfights and missiles as well, at least. You saw today, they barely had a few snipers and none of them could use them properly. Not to mention that the bomb and the guns had been tampered with magically. We suspect Muggleborns or Half Bloods who still had ties with the Muggle world. There is also the possibility of the rebels having gained the support of a foreign government who sponsored them in distance," enumerated the Dark Lord, ticking them off his fingers as he went along.

"Do you really think it could be a foreign government?" asked Harry, visibly surprised.

"There's no telling at this stage, sadly. There would need to be other attacks to be able to dress a more solid profile," explained the Dark Lord. "The data that we will most likely get from our search at the rebel camp and from interrogating the remaining rebels should help us get a clearer idea, however.

Harry sighed, deflating slightly.

"Here's to hoping there won't be any other attacks though. One was enough," he said with a tired voice.

"I agree," said Voldemort. "It makes me look unable to maintain peace when such things happen."

Harry huffed disenchantingly.

"I don't know why I thought you would be worried about the death toll. Of course, you'd think that your international image is more precious."

The Dark Lord shook his head to deny his lover's statement.

"Britain needs a growing population to assert its strength again and to get the Purebloods out of their inbreeding problem.

-Even if that means they'd marry Half-Bloods or Muggleborns?" challenged Harry. Voldemort nodded this time.

"If that is what it take. They'd probably marry first and second generation Purebloods before that, however."

Harry mulled over the question for a moment, before charging back.

"So, you care about the image your country projects, about its future in terms of numbers and figures and about its population for how they can contribute to your projects..." Harry shot him a glance before smirking. "You know, that's not much for a benevolent leader. You should at least pretend you care for your people's well-being as well."

The Dark Lord had a dismissive wave.

"I have to pretend enough in front of other people, I'm not going to keep up a role when I'm at home with you. I need at least one place where I can unwind from time to time."

Harry's eyes strangely softened at his declaration and his lips stretched in a pleased smile before it widened in a cunning grin. The young man suddenly stood up, pulling him up with a hand and said:

"Come, oh Triumphant Leader. I'll get you unwound, but I can't promise a calm evening."

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow at his suddenly energetic lover but let himself be pulled along.

"And, pray tell, what you have in mind?" he asked impatiently. He didn't like to be kept in the dark.

Harry turned back to look at him with a wide smile.

"I explored a bit the other day and I found this room with a massive bath. I've been waiting for the right moment to test it out with you. Maybe I could even try out my massage skills on you for once. What do you think of this plan?"

Ah, yes, the royal bath room. Countless Slytherin wives had committed suicide in it through time, for some reason. Perhaps it had something to do with the depressing decoration and worrying amount of snakes slithering on the tapestries covering the walls. Said snakes also had the nasty habit of hissing comments about the physiques and actions of the bathers. Let's just say that he wasn't the one who had inspired Nagini her lewd humour. While he didn't have any problem with his appearance anymore, it was still incredibly distracting to hear a running background commentary and ridiculous suggestions. The one who had given them the idea that licking your lover's Adam's apple was pleasurable for either partner must have married a cousin too many.

"Harry, that bath is too big. It doesn't have the appropriate grips. I have found the best room for such activities elsewhere in the Fortress. Let me show you," he suggested, choosing not to kill his lover's mood over a gory story of forced concubines and arranged matches finishing in literal blood baths.

Harry shrugged indifferently, sending him a small smile and taking his word for it, seemingly unfazed at the implication that he had multiple occasions of testing the numerous baths in his home before with various lovers.

The Dark Lord sighed internally. _Why must you be so perfect for me, my little Horcrux?_ he thought as he stopped on his way to press his lover against the cool stones of the walls and slowly explore Harry's mouth with a tenderness that surprised even him.

_One day, you'll be the death of me, my Harry..._he thought as he picked the other up and brought him to the bathroom in a remote wing of his Fortress.

.

* * *

(Let's hope that the Dark Lord doesn't have any prophetic blood, right?)

So, gore and feelings for this chapter. It's been a while since we've had a LV's POV.

And it was a busy chapter! Tell me what you thought of it! I've posted faster because a lot of you were eager to know what would happen in this chapter, so, you see, reviewing pays off for you too! ;)


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to everybody who follows this story and reviews to tell me what they think of it! I know it took me a bit longer to post this chapter (ouhhh, ten days), but I was struggling with whether I should cut this in two or not. In the end, I decided against it and there you have it; a suuuper long chappie. Give yourself the time to read it all patiently, though! And please, if you don't like a risk I've taken around the middle of the chapter, just keep reading and don't let it bother you too much. I would also appreciate if nobody sent me flamers for that. God knows I've worried enough about its reception without needing the final push into the abyss by angry reviewers. :P

FanFiction Lover: So, did you, or did you not, in the end, like the gore? It was a bit ambiguous in your review ;) I'm sorry to say that I probably won't write much more gory scenes than in that chapter, but the horror has a certain place in this story, just like the humour has. It was difficult for me to pick two genres for this story. I would have preferred if they had just let me put them in order, then it would have given something like "Drama, Romance, Humour, Horror, Mystery, Angst, Adventure, Family, etc." I guess I'm not a very focussed person and that it shows in how I write :P

Guest: I'm your favourite author? Awww! For realz? I hope this chapter will serve as a good distraction for your busy life, again ;)

Summary of the chapter before: The battle in the Rebel Camp was bloody and gory and leaves a few unanswered questions: where was Moody? Is he really allied with Muggles? What happened to Neville? Why is Harry behaving so...neutrally? Is it a result of his degrading sanity? What causes it?

Warnings: slash, a bit of violence at the end and a bit of gore at the beginning

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Chapter 41: 21st of December: Growing up pains

It was good to be Lucius Malfoy at the moment. He had everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. A beautiful and supportive wife who was pregnant with his daughter, a stable job as Minister of Magic for nearly 15 years now, a strong and fine son who would take over the estate when Lucius would be ready for his retirement, gold in abundance in his coffers and a destroyed Rebel Camp on top of everything.

Contrarily to his high-strung, wand-happy colleagues in the Death Eater ranks, he was not disappointed in his role in the battle against the Rebels. He knew that his task of holding the wards had been of prime importance and that it was an honour the Dark Lord had given him than to put him in charge.

He was also glad that his son hadn't participated in the massacre. It was bad enough that Draco had followed him when he had gone in to direct the search in the Rebel's house after the hasty departure from his Lord and that he had seen the gory scene left behind.

While Draco was not fragile to any extent, he had inherited of his mother's delicate sensitivities and it would not have made a good impression on the Dark Lord if he had started vomiting in the middle of his first battlefield. As it was, his son already looked a bit green as he was walking amidst the devastation and carefully stepping around pieces of flesh and torn limbs.

Lucius wanted this little excursion to be cathartic for his son. He wanted to show him that his revenge was accomplished and that the Rebels couldn't hurt him anymore. Moody's absence was the only downside of the day. Well, that, and the four minor Death Eaters and the two Aurors who had perished in combat, but the casualties were expected to a certain extent.

Lucius carefully observed as Draco approached a small old-looking shed at the edge of the village. He looked hesitant.

When Draco gripped his wand tightly and began to shake in anger, Lucius knew that his purpose for bringing Draco along had been fulfilled. He wouldn't feel like a powerless victim anymore.

However, when Draco shot an _Incendio_ at the shed, he was taken with a feeling of familiar dread and couldn't help but to shout a spell to protect the building.

His son looked betrayed when he whirled around to look at him. It was the same look he had when he had learnt that he had been named after a constellation, and not after the magical beast.

"Check inside the shed first, then burn it down," replied Lucius. He had learnt his lesson after the damn paper plane that he couldn't get out of his head.

Draco lifted an eyebrow in answer, suddenly looking so much like Lucius's father that he felt a pang of loss at the thought of the deceased Abraxas Malfoy. His father, who had passed away a few years ago, would have no doubt loved to see how his beloved grandson had grown.

_But I would not have my future daughter if he were still alive so it was not completely inopportune,_ supplied Lucius's inner voice rationally.

"Father! Come here! There's someone inside!" called his heir, bringing him back to the present day. Thank Morgana they had checked before or the screams of the immolated rebel would have surely traumatised Draco.

He strode closer and, surely enough, he saw a young boy lying in the dirt, unconscious and bleeding.

"Father, that's where I was kept prisoner...do you think that he..." trailed off Draco, worried. Yes, the boy was a tad too soft-hearted sometimes, but Lucius was happy that Draco didn't have to harden himself through years of war like he had to do when he was younger. There was a refreshing innocence to Draco that he had lost far too early in his life for his taste.

"Well, everything is but conjunctures before we know who he is and why he was in there," he replied carefully, before sending diagnostic spells to see if the boy was potentially dangerous.

The rebel was indeed unconscious and had apparently been tortured for a while. It made his blood boil at the thought of Draco going through the same thing and resolved once more to give Moody and the rest of the Rebels their due punishment.

"Let's get him to the safe house. There are some healers there that will be able to look after him," he decided before levitating the boy out of the shack.

When the body floated up to him, however, he began to recognise the similarities with Bella's former pets.

He gasped involuntarily when he recognised the boy, and Draco asked him what was wrong.

"This is Neville Longbottom," he replied, intrigued by the circumstances in which Harry's contact was found. They knew that something hadn't gone to plan in regards to the defecting rebels, but they still weren't sure of what had happened.

_It's a good thing_, he decided at that moment. _If the rest of the Rebels have tortured the boy, he will most likely be more favourable to the Dark Lord's regime and see us as his saviour, thus easing the information gathering process._

Within a few days, he would learn how wrong he was in his assumption.

.

o0o0o

23rd of December: The Ministry's ballroom

I rubbed my clammy palms against my expansive dress robes, shooting a glance to my left where the Dark Lord was standing, observing me with an amused smirk on his face. Of course he'd find it funny. Bloody bastard.

"Announcing...Our Beloved Leader, The Dark Lord Voldemort and his guest Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived."

This time, it was a glare that I shot in the other's direction. Of course he would have wanted everyone to know exactly who I was without ambiguity, but did he really need to use that ridiculous title?

The Dark Lord rolled his eyes playfully at my reaction before passing an arm around my shoulders and steering me in the ballroom with him.

The bright light of the chandeliers made me squint for a short moment as I took in the richly decorated room. Everything screamed of wealth and opulence, particularly the women in the room who were clearly dressed to impress. I saw their gazes piercing me, evaluating me, some of them dismissing me quickly and turning lusty stares to the Dark Lord at my side, others fixating me in a way that reminded me of a hungry dog eyeing a fresh piece of meat after days of fasting. As they took in the arm that was calculatedly placed over my shoulder by the Dark Lord, some of their faces turned livid with jealously, others with disbelief, others again with anger. One face stood out from the rest. It belonged to a young woman of about my age. She was standing slightly to the side, and wearing an elegant dress a peculiar shade of orange and looking strangely dishevelled. She took one look at us and started smiling tenderly immediately. I observed her more carefully, trying to determine if I ever heard of her or her family, but apart from her dirty blond straggly hair that vaguely reminded me of the Malfoys, I didn't recognise anything about her.

The Dark Lord dropped his arm from my shoulders, effectively drawing my attention away from the girl. He took a step forward and went to stand at the front of the stage, spreading his hands slightly to ask for silence. He got it instantly. It reminded me eerily of when I had gone to listen to his speech years ago at a Victory Day parade. Only this time, I was behind him on the stage instead of in the crowd looking up to him. I was also his lover and knew him intimately instead of being one face among many others lusting after him impossibly. _How my life has changed in the last year_, I contemplated.

I couldn't help but to scan the crowd to try to spot my younger self as I listened to his speech about great victories distractedly. I knew I wouldn't be there, but the gesture grounded me somehow. The switch in perspective felt so unreal, so rapid. I looked at the Dark Lord as he was addressing his population. He had large shoulders and a strong back suited to carry the weight of his leadership. He was standing straight, but with a calculated relaxedness in his posture meant to comfort and put his people at ease. I studied the magic swirling lazily around him. Like the man himself, it was deceptively calm, but I knew that in every single of his public appearances, the Dark Lord was ready for an attack on his person and was accordingly vigilant. He had asked that I did the same tonight.

My eyes scanned the room, studying the magic lighting the faces in the crowd with more or less intensity depending on their magical strength. Most were pathetically weak. Others were respectably powerful. The strange girl from earlier had a radiant aura. The purest of lights shone around her. It intrigued me. I resolved to go talk to her after the Dark Lord's speech.

"And now, I wish to introduce a young man who has been kept from his rightful place in our society, but who has now decided to join us in our celebration tonight after a spectacular contribution to yesterday's victory. Let us warmly welcome back Harry Potter!"

Of course, after such a ringing endorsement from the Dark Lord, the crowd didn't have a choice but to cheer enthusiastically for me. Some of them sounded like they were competing against others spectators on who could cheer the loudest. Perhaps they thought this was the way to be noticed by the Dark Lord. I shot my lover (_yes, My lover_, I thought possessively) a glance to see how he took that. He sent me a small, barely perceptible smirk in answer. Of course he had noticed and of course it amused him. That man liked to have his ego boosted in every way possible, after all.

As I got to the front of the stage, people quieted, leaning forward to listen to what I had to say. I looked again at the Dark Lord, who lifted an eyebrow at me. I hadn't planned a speech, and neither had he. But he was intrigued, so he wanted me to have my public speaking's 'baptism by fire' in an improvised speech to his adoring population. I sucked in a breath to ground myself. I could do this. I glanced at the pure aura of the blond girl again. I didn't know why but it gave me the strength to start.

"Seventeen years ago, Fate decided that I was destined to face the Dark Lord. Everyone agreed, including my parents, my godfather, their friends, Dumbledore and even the Dark Lord standing with me here today. Everyone, except from me. I was saddled with a Destiny and free will was taken from me. I grew up in the Rebel Camp that was destroyed three days ago. I admit to have been a decisive factor in the infiltration part of the attack and to having played a role in their apprehension. 'Why would I do so?' is probably the question you are currently asking yourself. 'In great part because I do not take lightly to being forced to commit crimes,' is the answer. No matter what one is destined to be, or in which context one grows up, what they do with their life and the decisions they take are entirely up to them. Hiding yourself behind fatalistic excuses is just a way to give up your freedom of choice and not ask yourself uncomfortable questions about the ways of the world. It is up to everyone to ask themselves what they want in a government, whether they support the Dark Lord's administration in all its policies, or if they want to side with the Rebels. Do not blame your blood, your family or your heritage. Ultimately, your decision is up to you. Only, choose wisely and evaluate the consequences of your actions and of the ideology that you are endorsing. Question everything that you see, dig deeper than the surface. There are a lot of smokescreens and propaganda, on both sides of the conflict. You see me standing here on this stage today, because I took a decision, because I choose to do what was right, instead of what was easy. If I could overcome such a legacy, so can you. Follow your heart, and your head. Choose wisely."

I bowed slightly and withdrew from the front of the stage. I was slightly nervous at what the Dark Lord would think of my speech. It had sounded as if I was gearing the population for a democratic turn in the government. It was probably not what he wanted. My glance slid slowly in the Dark Lord's direction, ready to look away quickly if I saw anger or hatred burning there. If that was the case, so be it. I wouldn't let him dictate my actions any more than I let the Rebels. I wouldn't give parades to rally the population behind him. If he was doing a good job in his government, he wouldn't need a parade. I could not let the Wizarding World's first impression of me be one of a puppet of the Dark Lord's regime if I ever intended to break away from him in the near future after I overstayed my welcome at his Fortress and he discarded me like rubbish on the side of the street.

The Dark Lord's face, surprisingly, was shining with amusement and a dose of satisfaction. I would never understand that man.

I shot him an exasperated glance. His smirk grew larger and his eyes suddenly lit up as if he just had one of his strokes of genius. I looked leerily at him approaching me slowly.

_What was he planning? What could he possibly have come up with?_

He stopped in front of me, but close, way too close for our very public location. I couldn't see the crowd anymore because of the glare of cameras' light bulbs going off frantically, trying to capture the moment.

_Which moment? What was the Dark Lord going to do?_ I asked myself, desperately trying to understand the situation.

I turned back to Marvolo, resolute to ask him what was going on. I saw his ruby-red eyes scorching me with the heat beneath them for a second before I felt a hand slide up behind my neck and pull me sharply to his chest. I held on to him and meant to speak but he swiftly covered my mouth with his, effectively cutting off my question before I could ask it. I made a surprised sound, but it probably passed off as an eager moan because he tightened his hold on me and continued to kiss me hungrily.

I felt too stunned to respond with the same enthusiasm, but I still moved with him automatically at the pleasant buzz his Magic gave me.

My mind was whirling. I couldn't understand what had motivated him to do such a bold claim. It felt like a spontaneous and daring decision. Something a Gryffindor would do. There was a reason beneath this setting. I just had to find it. He had wanted to 'stake his claim' on me since the beginning of the evening, but not just sexually, I think. I just did an ambiguous speech that could be interpreted as an incitation for popular revolt under this totalitarian regime. I had kept my position purposely vague when I spoke, leaving to the people to interpret whether I was backing the Dark Lord's regime or not. Perhaps this was a way to make sure people understood where I stood exactly in the conflict. It was his move to make sure I didn't have a choice in how people would perceive me in the Wizarding World.

Perhaps there was more to it than that as well. Perhaps this was just his way to tell me that he wasn't ashamed of our relationship, or that it was more durable than I thought. Perhaps it was to discourage the rest of the Rebel movement by showing exactly where I stood in the conflict nowadays. To make them stop counting on me to 'save them all'.

I would never completely understand the motives behind this man's actions.

The kiss broke away and I opened my eyes again, observing him silently. What I saw surprised me. I knew there would be triumph, glee, and amusement in his gaze. I just didn't expect to see affection shining there as well. It was all gone in the blink of an eye, however, leaving me to wonder if I had imagined it.

Marvolo's hand slid down from my neck to my hand, grasping it lightly before he asked in that smooth and seductive tone of his:

"Would you be so kind as to dance with me, Harry?"

I felt myself flush in embarrassment. I felt like a bloody girl at her first ball. But then I replied with my own snarky smirk:

"Would you let me lead?" I asked him.

I felt so proud of myself for asking that even if I knew he wouldn't accept. He had to ruin it all, of course.

"Would you know how to?" he challenged me, as if he was really considering it.

"No." I had to concede. He hadn't shown me that part at all. "But would you have accepted if I had said yes?

-Perhaps. You will know the answer to this question if you learn to dance properly and ask me again then," he replied with an amused smirk.

It was vague enough to hint at a positive answer without engaging himself to do anything. I wouldn't let him win this spar so easily though.

"If I say yes to the dance, would you let me top tonight?" I asked daringly. Not that I think I would enjoy it better, but I was curious to try it out.

His gaze turned evaluative.

I held my breath, waiting for his answer. This was big: bigger than the hundreds of people detailing our interaction closely from the lower ground and the horrid newspaper headlines that would inevitably be printed the day after.

"Deal," he answered firmly before whisking me away to the dance floor.

.

o0o0o

24th of December, Unknown location.

_The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Seduced-By-The-Dark-Lord!_

_In a shocking revelation at the annual Ministry Yule Ball, the young man who had disappeared from the Wizarding World after the unfortunate circumstances of his parent's deaths suddenly reappeared yesterday at the arm of our Beloved Leader! Shocking familiarity between the two shone throughout the night and the Dark Lord was seen, not only kissing but also dancing with his young companion (and probably lover, but this hasn't been confirmed yet). Over the years since our Supreme Leader's triumphant Victory over the Light opposition, many rumours have circulated about our Lord's potential tastes in lovers. It had been but speculation until Harry Potter showed up to set us 'straight' yesterday night. _

_Undoubtedly young, confident enough to stand up next to the considerable presence of our Leader and to improvise an inspiring speech at the drop of a hat, Mister Potter took over the crowd with his heartfelt confession of a harsh life among the Rebels and his decision to abnegate their dangerous ways and help the Dark Lord's forces to triumph once more over this movement responsible for last Samhain's Ministry disaster. If anybody had doubts to join up with the Rebellion, they will think twice after hearing the young man's revelation of 'having been forced to commit crimes' by them. A clear euphemism that makes us tremble in fear for the handsome dark haired man's fate at the hands of the Rebels had he stayed with them. In a clear plead for a ceasefire on the Rebels' side, Harry Potter besought the population to question the legitimacy of their cause._

_The Dark Lord has found a powerful ally and lover in this handsome man whose eyes shone like emeralds as he looked at the crowd gathered before him. One Amos Diggory, whose son has recently fallen victim to the Rebellion, was present at yesterday's reception and told us that "Seeing young and brave Harry on that stage making his speech, I thought that I could see my Cedric standing up there next to him and supporting him. I have always considered myself neutral on the question of the Rebellion, but I realised with young Mister Potter's speech that my inaction was a choice in itself and that I should be defending my right for freedom by taking a more active role in fighting those disgusting scum."_

_ Mister Diggory, we at the Daily Prophet offer our most sincere condolences and wish you good luck in your entry test for the new militia currently recruiting to deal with the Rebellion and the enemies of our government. _

_In the words of this inspiring new figure of the regime, we encourage our readers to "Follow your heart, follow your head. And choose to do was is right instead of what is easy." Take arms to defend our freedom!_

_For more information on the militia and how to enrol, please visit page 3._

_For the integral speech of Mister Potter and a play-by-play detailed account of his interactions with our Beloved Leader last night, go to page 5._

_For speculations on the Dark Lord's tastes in men and for glamour tips to make yourself look more like his chosen lover to attract the coveted man's eye, see the 'Beauty' special at the end of this issue (Includes a section by our special correspondent from St. Mungo's, Liza Iznogood, about sex changing procedures and how to attract gay men if you have the misfortune of being a woman.). _

The newspaper burst in flames suddenly, nearly burning the man who was reading it. Said man backed away from the carbonated sheets of paper as fast as his wooden leg allowed him. In a fit of anger, he grabbed the flask of fine Bordeaux wine he got from one of his allies and threw it on the wall of his hiding place. The sound of glass shattering made him feel marginally better.

That imbecilic brat! That good-for-nothing arrogant whelp! How dared he? After all the Rebels had done for him! They had invested for much time and effort, and for what? The idiot couldn't even manage to get himself killed properly by the Dark Lord! And now he was siding with the snake-faced bastard? Spreading his legs for him? Disgusting perverted queer boy. He should have killed him when he had the chance! Now his headquarters were destroyed and he had to use some of Dumbledore's old hiding places...

He looked at the burgundy puddle slowly seeping through the dirt ground. Perhaps it would be better to lie low for a while. Relying on his allies had caused him too much trouble. If you wanted something to be done at your convenience, you were better off doing it yourself, after all.

He turned away from the sight and started to pack his belonging.

_Time to go treasure hunting!_ he thought with a snarky grin lighting up his scruffy features as he spun around and Disapparated.

.

o0o0o

I looked at Marvolo, who was lying calmly on his back, watching me with a slight smirk at his lips. I felt a nervous thrill pass through me. That was it!

I was a bit indecisive, however. How could I proceed? I really wanted to make it nice and special, so I was a bit afraid of behaving a blubbering idiot.

Which position? On his knees? No, I wanted to see his face. Sitting on me? No, that was too similar to him topping. Kind of...normal position? But it would feel weird to see him from that perspective...nearly sacrilegious. How did I proceed? What would feel good for him?

I buried my hands in my hair, tugging on it desperately. I didn't want to mess this up. Dammit, topping was more stressing than it looked. It wasn't as empowering as I thought it would be. Even lying there, his arms folded behind his head in a relaxed posture, waiting for me to make my move, the Dark Lord still looked in control as always. And his smirk was widening with every second of inaction from my part.

In the end, he visibly got tired of waiting, because he started to casually unbutton his dress shirt, revealing pale smooth skin and lean muscles to my rapidly watering mouth. It felt like the best strip tease in the world, even if the only thing he did was lying on the bed, moving from the top button of his shirt down to the last. When it was lying open on his chest, he brought his hands back behind his neck again and returned to his evaluative look. My arm unconsciously stretched to touch his torso with the back of my hand. When it connected with the warm and soft skin, the slight jolt of our connecting magic brought me back to life.

Of course. I knew what to do. Top or bottom didn't change that much. It was still us, still his delicious and powerful magic swirling around me, still his ruby-red eyes that had haunted my desires for as long as I could remember looking at me with a glint of amusement in them. I suddenly had an idea. I lowered my Occlumency shields completely for the first time in months as I lunged for his mouth, letting him feel exactly everything I was living through. I felt him shiver under me at the sudden onslaught of sensations. I climbed on his stomach, pressing myself against him eagerly and battling our tongues together as my hands travelled on his chest, pushing the rest of his shirt off his shoulders. He lifted his back to accommodate my intention and moved to unbutton mine and take it off as well. I directed him to lie back down on the bed with a small push at his shoulders and he did, never moving his eyes away from me. I didn't look up in his because of my lowered shields. At least, not yet.

I climbed down on his legs, taking his pants and underwear off as well with practised movements. He touched a finger to my legs and made my remaining clothes disappear without a word. I moved between his legs eyeing his arousal closely before licking it and taking it in my mouth. Nothing was new yet. I was a bit frustrated at my lack of originality. I trailed my hands up his legs, massaging the firm flesh of his upper thighs and butt before using the normal preparation spells he usually employed.

I was determined to be somehow creative. Not that I thought I had anything to teach him. With the way he was behaving at the moment, it hinted at the fact that he had bottomed countless times. Somehow, that didn't fit with my idea of him. But I had already established that I didn't understand him.

I suddenly got an idea as I looked down at him while I was swirling my tongue around his arousal and bobbing my head rhythmically. I could see his testicles from this angle, but nothing more. What if I...went down there with my mouth? Would it be pleasant? Would it be weird? I lowered my face close to my goal, his legs bent at the knee framing my head before I approached and poked my tongue out and tentatively lick at the hole, which twitched immediately. A wave of emotions coming from him submerged me. Whereas before I could only sense a vague feeling of impatience and slight exasperation toward my hesitant behaviour, now I clearly perceived his surprise, which turned into interest as I continued my ministrations, probing him with my tongue. I heard him gasp and his hips twitched once under the grasp of my hands, escaping his normally tight self-control. When I felt the muscles relax, I pressed a magically slicked finger inside while I returned to pay attention to his cock.

The feedback I got from the soul link was amazing. I didn't understand why I had kept the Occlumency shields up that much when we were together. It guided me and reassured me that he liked what I was trying to do.

When I thought that the stretching was enough, I positioned myself at his entrance and made eye contact for the first time since I had lowered my shields. He was panting harshly, his jaw set at first, but it relaxed when he saw me looking at him at last. I lifted a questioning eyebrow at him. He nodded minutely. I slid in slowly, my eyes closing at the onslaught of sensations. It felt a lot better than just getting the feedback from when he was in me. The passage was wet from my saliva and the lubricant I had used on my fingers and impossibly tight. I gasped at the feeling, sucking in a harsh breath as I tried to regain control of my emotions and movement. He moved his hips forward and impaled himself on me more impatiently, setting the rhythm for us.

Why did it feel like he was still the one in control, despite our positions? I opened my eyes to look at him. He looked as powerful and regal as ever, even after I thrust in a bit too vigorously to answer to his movement. I tightened my grip on his legs and lifted them on my shoulders, changing the angle until I found the prostate. He met my every thrust with an answering grind of his hips.

Was it unfair that I felt jealous of him for being so spectacular at everything even in bottoming?

I grabbed his arousal from between us and started to pump it following our rhythm. I infused some of my magic in my hand and tried to make what I was feeling travel through our bond. I wanted us to feel everything from both perspectives at the same time. The layers of feedback blurred a bit together when I did that, however and, as my eyes fell shut again and our movements turned a bit frantic, I began to lose my sense of self.

Who was topping, who was bottoming? Did it really matter? The only thing I could feel was a sweet pressure building up so fast and magic (mine or his, I couldn't say anymore) swirling around us, stroking at our arousal and spurning it on, higher, higher, higher until I felt like I was going to die of pleasurable torture. Our climax exploded from both of us and I collapse on top of him, my head buzzing from the connection until I felt my thoughts unravelled and I let myself be engulfed by darkness.

.

o0o0o

.

A sharp slap on my left cheek raised me from the abyss in which my mind was swimming thoughtlessly. Try as I may, however, I couldn't lift my eyelids...Did I even have eyes?

I felt hands settle on my shoulders and shake them violently before one left my shoulder to slap me harshly on the right cheek, this time, making me jolt at the pain. What the heck was happening? I still couldn't move. Did I even have limbs?

Fingers grasped my nose and pinched it while another hand settled on my mouth, preventing me from breathing. Was the other person trying to kill me?

I felt my stomach clench and my chest heave at the lack of air. My arms flayed uselessly around me, the muscles of my legs clenched and I groaned in pain. I still couldn't control them, even if I knew I had them now.

Was this the end? Was I going to die? Was I going to let myself die without doing anything? I couldn't remember a single thing of who I was or where I was. Was I going to die even before I had lived at all? Why would someone want to kill me when I hadn't even lived to do anything against them? Something must have happened. I tried to search my memory, but only met darkness. I was beginning to panic because I still couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, a bright pair of ruby-red eyes lit up in the middle of a sea of black.

"You're even more incompetent than I thought if you let yourself be killed so easily. And this is my prophesies enemy? You are pathetic. Rise, idiotic boy. If you let yourself go like that again, I won't hesitate to take over, I can assure you.

-Why aren't you taking over already?" I felt myself ask, but I thought my mouth was covered, so I didn't know how I could talk.

"You seem to make him happier and more content than I've been before. It was about time I found someone vaguely worthy of me, even as idiotic as you are. I wouldn't be useful to him if I took over now. He'd probably just reabsorb me if I did that. Besides, you are a pleasant host enough, especially since you've joined him. I've particularly enjoyed the sex. It's about the only feelings that reach me up here, so why don't you go back now and get round two going? I won't hesitate to hurt you if you don't. I still have that kind of power over you," threatened the eyes before disappearing from my field of vision.

I felt myself frown and exhale sharply through my nose.

Wait a minute; I could breathe? Was I not under attack anymore? And, if I could frown and exhale, why wouldn't I be able to open my eyes?

I gave another attempt to lift my eyelids. This time, they did, surprisingly.

The first thing I saw was another pair of red eyes. They were the same as those in my mind, except that there was a face coming with them this time: A handsome face, a strong jaw, thin red lips, a straight, aristocratic nose, elegant eyebrows, long dark hair tumbling down on his shoulders. I had a feeling that his hair was usually well-groomed, but it was dishevelled at the moment, as if he had passed his hands through it a few times. He was straddling my stomach, naked. His hands were on my shoulders, pinning me to the bed.

He was frowning at me. He said something, but the content didn't register in my head. His skin looked fascinating though. I lifted a hand a placed it on his hip, caressing the warm flesh and muscle with my thumb. A felt a hesitant tingling answer the contact, climbing through my hand. I knew this magic. It wasn't mine. Mine was different. The man sitting on top of me wasn't me either. But I had a part of him in me. It had talked to me when I was lost inside my head. How was it called again? A...Hi...Ho...Hor...Hore-something.

I lifted my eyes up to the man's again and narrowed them when I saw his mouth moving, this time emitting weird hissing sounds.

I shook my head at him. If I didn't get normal speech, I wouldn't get hissing either.

"Harry...do you understand me?" I heard.

I thought I understood what he said suddenly, so I nodded.

He lifted some fingers in front of my eyes.

"How many fingers?"

I looked between his hand and his face, frowning uncomprehendingly.

Then I looked down at my own hands, turning them palms up and lifting them close to my face.

Hands had five fingers, right?

"F...ive?" I answered hesitantly.

He sighed and shook his head in exasperation.

"I should have called a Mind Healer. This wasn't in the Dark Lord's job description..." he said.

He was a Dark Lord? An image of an evil wizard shooting killing curses left and right, cackling maniacally, sprung to my mind.

He didn't look like that, though, so I was a bit confused. I zoned out, pondering Dark Lords and magic when I felt another slap smart my cheek. It jerked me out of my thoughts

"Ow, dammit! Yes, you should have sent for a Mind Healer is that's your definition of helping someone! By the gods! Wasn't there something in the Honour's Duel that prevented you from hurting me or something like that?" I snapped at him.

"Harry?" replied uselessly the Dark Lord in an unusually cautious voice.

"What?" I answered irritably. After a moment of pause without him saying anything else, I pushed. "So, are you going to answer my question? Did it hurt you to hit me?"

"Hum...slightly, but not more than that," he said at last, shaking his head in disbelief while he looked at me.

"Harry, what is the last thing you remember?" he asked, intent on asking the weirdest questions.

"You mean, before or after your slap?" I asked him vindictively.

"Before," he answered.

I frowned, trying to remember. It took longer than it should have.

"Errr...I was...unconscious? Oh, and I met your Horcrux! You know, the one inside my head?"

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed and scrutinised me.

"Did it say anything to you?" he asked.

"Well...I think there was something about...boxing? No, no...err...that he gave me another chance because he thought I was funny? Or that he liked sex or something? I don't know, something about how I was more useful to you than he'd be and that he didn't want to be reabsorbed. He was a bit cryptic..."

The Dark Lord exhaled sharply, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Anything else that you remember?

-I don't know. It's a bit absurd, so I think I dreamt about something," I answered hesitantly.

He had a small smirk at that.

"I think I know what you will say, but go ahead.

-You promise you won't be mad?" I asked, just to make sure.

He sighed in exasperation.

"I promise I won't be mad. Now, get on with it.

-Alright, alright. Well...I dreamt that we were having sex, but that...well...that I was the one...that you were...

-That you were topping. Yes, Harry. It happened.

-What? Why?"

The Dark Lord barked a laugh.

"Because, as it tends to happens when one lives as long as I have, sometimes a bit of variety is welcomed. I do prefer topping, but it doesn't mean that bottoming is degrading or makes someone completely submissive. Or do you mean to tell me that you have felt humiliated every time we have had sex so far?" he asked.

I thought about his point and found that it did make sense. If I didn't feel like bottoming was degrading, why would he?

"On the contrary," he continued as he looked at me closely. "There is certain strength in being able to let the other be in control for a while. It was a gesture of trust and I remember you asking me to have more faith in you. Your answer to my move was to lower your Occlumency shields but, as nice as the feelings it procured were, I'm afraid it really was the worst thing you could ever have done in such a situation.

-Why?" I asked, a bit indignant. I thought it had been a brilliant idea.

"Why do you think I waited so long to have penetrative sex with you? Yes, part of it was that I thought your answer to discovering that we were not soul mates would be worse if we had done it, but mostly, I was worried of what it would do to the connection because I could feel it pulling at us whenever we would do any kind of sexual activities. Your Occlumency shields are what protect you from being sucked in by my soul, apparently. There is a reason why I can't keep my Horcruxes close to me, you know. The 'mother soul' has a tendency to pull at its Horcruxes when they are too close. It is not as strong when they have their own living containers like Nagini and you, but the pull is still there. And it is still dangerous, as we have just seen," he explained.

"Why did you let me go on with it, then?

-I was curious to see what it would do and thought that, if I kept my own shields up, it would be fine. Apparently, I underestimated the risks. It won't happen again, I assure you."

-No topping again for me, then?" I asked, a bit dejectedly, even if I wasn't sure of how I had liked it.

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

"It doesn't have anything to do with the position, only with the Occlumency shields. On the other hand, I let you top because you needed to try it at least once in your life, but really, you seemed quite lost for a while, not knowing what to do. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so exasperating. One could have thought you had the whole thing planned, when you negotiated for it. Apparently...

-Alright, alright! I know, I know!" I cut him off before he could ridicule me more. "But it got better, right?" I asked nervously.

"Marginally. You had the advantage of the link and the compatible magic, however. It would have been difficult to mess it up," he specified, making me feel a bit self-conscious about my 'performance'.

Outwardly, I only rolled my eyes at him. I obviously wasn't going to win this argument.

"Fine! It's not as if it really bothers me to bottom, anyway, you know? I just find both interesting but...It does feel awkward to top when it's with you..." I confessed.

"And pray tell, with whom else you have topped before to be able to compare?" he said in a chilly voice.

I winced.

"No need to remind me of my limited experience. Believe me, I know...I mean, it's a bit intimidating when I think of everyone with whom you've had sex before. I'm a blundering amateur compared to you," I admitted, rubbing my forehead tiredly. He relaxed marginally.

"You shouldn't feel concerned about it. Since I have so much experience, like you pointed out, I have met plenty of 'sex gurus' in my life and I find your innocence refreshing. You didn't come in my bed expecting anything else than what I would give you and you didn't wear a false confidence as a veneer either. Every single of your answers to what I did were honest and not calculated to make me feel better or more powerful. Your own attempts, admittedly sometimes clumsy, were original and came from you genuinely wanting to try out something or wanting to give me pleasure and not to impress me with a 'good performance' or anything of the kind," he explained.

He was being unusually reassuring. It was suspicious.

I sat up, staring fixedly at the bed sheets while I mulled over what he said. On one hand, why would he lie about it and come up with that? On the other, he always had a reason beneath everything he did, didn't he? It was horrible how I felt I didn't understand him at all while he got me so well. I would blame my very limited contacts with people while I grew up at the Rebel Camp, but I had a feeling that the Dark Lord was just particularly perceptive, even compared with other people who had had 'normal' upbringings. That was probably part of the job description as a Dark Lord: to be able to spot traitors and manipulate people better, and so on.

"Did you say something about a job description earlier? Something I thought about reminded me of it."

The Dark Lord lifted an eyebrow at me.

"I did, actually, but you were still mostly out of it, even if you had your eyes open. I thought I would have to go get a Mind Healer to get you out of your daze.

-You mean, after your attempt to strangle me to consciousness didn't work. What were you thinking, by the way? Why would that help?" I asked a bit indignantly.

"I thought it would call forth your survival instincts and make you react. To be honest, I should have remembered that you never had much of a survival instinct to begin with. The slaps were to shock you awake with a bit of pain. I thought of using a mild Cruciatus, but I didn't want to suffer the backlash of that one both by the Horcrux link and the non-aggression clause of the Duel. You saved me the trouble of finding a Mind Healer that was both competent and disposable by waking up on your own.

-Disposable?" I asked, even if I thought I knew what he would say.

"I would have needed to explain the Horcrux link in order for them to treat you and then I would have had to kill the Healer to preserve the secret of it, or at least, Obliviate them so severely to make sure that nobody could find the memories again that they would have been useless as Mind Healers anyway," he explained, unfazed by what he was describing, of course.

I blinked at him. I don't know how I could have thought that he wasn't that cruel. It seemed so apparent those days. Perhaps he had hid it from me, gradually revealing his true self as I got used to him. Perhaps he was still hiding his true personality from me, but that he was getting mixed up in the image he wanted to project. Perhaps he just didn't care to put up a front anymore with me for whatever reasons.

It was the same thing with his way of governing this regime, really. At first, he really tried to convince me that he took decisions for the good of his population, now, it nearly seemed as if his administration was only 'accidentally fair'. The population wasn't happy because their government tried to make them so, but more because it took decisions which just happened to please the public, more by accident than on purpose.

I sighed, letting myself drop back on the bed before turning to him.

"The whole Horcrux thing is worrying me. Could it really take over?" I asked him, watching his reaction closely.

He sighed in response as well and settled back down on the bed next to me, a propped-up arm holding his head up as he looked at me.

"Frankly, I don't think it could unless you let it overpower you...or lose your control over your sense of self again like earlier. I have never been faced with that sort of problem, but it reminds me a bit of when I was losing my sanity, twenty years ago, or so. That was...horrible," he confessed, his mouth pulled in a tight line.

"What happened?" I asked him, despite knowing that it was a delicate subject.

"Oh, well. It was a combination of having too many Horcruxes, and delving too deep too quickly into heavy Dark magic and Origins Magic.

-Origins Magic?" I interrupted him.

"Ah, yes, you know, time-travel, magical enhancement spells, flying, channelling elemental powers, that sort of things," he explained with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if he hadn't just opened the biggest Pandora's box of them all with his enumeration.

"Wait a minute, you time-travelled? Further than one day back? Without a time-turner?" I started with that one.

He nodded.

"It wasn't like you are thinking, however. It was more a form of Astral Projection, if you are familiar with the concept. You are there as an invisible spectator and can't influence anything or interact with people. It was a bit deceiving, really.

-Where and when did you go?" I probed further.

"Hogwarts in the time of Salazar Slytherin. I was quite enthusiastic at the idea of speaking with my ancestor and talking about my ideals with him. I had always admired the man in my youth. So did nearly all the Slytherin students over the centuries, really.

-So, what happened then?" I asked eagerly, but a bit miffed that I had to get the story from him drop by drop.

"Well, I told you already. I went there, all excited and eager like I hadn't felt for years, only to float aimlessly for hours following the man around and watching him teach elementary concepts to his pupils. Old English is also more difficult to follow than I thought it would be since I can read it without much problem. I did hear him hiss a few things to his doors and warded cabinets, but really, the man's life was quite mundane. He was only a teacher who occasionally did some interesting research on the side. He didn't revolution the world of Magic or anything of the kind. Anyway, at the end of that visit, I concluded that the spell was only a sort of viewing spell and not a real travel through time. I had no use for that then and I still don't today."

I felt my eyes widen and looked at him incredulously. _He had no use for that? I'd like to be able to time-travel, even only superficially like he did. I wonder when I'd go? See my parents when they were alive, maybe?_

"Is it easy to do, then?" I asked, intrigued.

"No, it's incredibly complex magic and asks for rare and expansive ingredients to work properly. Not to mention the high risk of loosing yourself in the meanders of time. So no, I won't be doing it again without a really good reason."

"What about the rest of the things you mentioned? You said something about flying, right? Without a broom? That would be awesome to do!

-I can, actually. It isn't that difficult, I could show you if you want."

I felt my brows lift on my forehead.

"Really? You'd do that?" I asked incredulously before narrowing my eyes at him. "What would you want in exchange?

-Why, Harry, you wound me. I was prepared to teach you the skill for free since I think it could be quite useful in emergency situations, but if you want to give something in return for it...I'll just have to take you up on it, naturally," he said in mock surprise before grinning at me.

I scrutinised him again, trying to evaluate what he would want.

"What about this pesky Duel that is still looming ahead? Forfeiting is but a formality now, after all," he said dismissively.

I gaped at him.

"Is it?" I asked, incredulous.

He nodded indifferently, but by now I could read him enough that I caught his bluff. He hadn't spoke of the Duel with me in quite a while and I knew he had decided to not address the subject in the hopes that I would give it up more easily if he didn't push for a forfeit. In a way, he was right, because the whole thing just looked pointless now...but at the same time, if he thought I'd trust him enough to put my fate in his arms and give him complete control on what would happen to me...shouldn't he be ready to do the same? Shouldn't he prove that the trust was mutual, to a certain extent, at least?

I thought back of what we had just done. Was that his gesture of trust, as if he'd said? But he had made it look so...normal, as if it wasn't that big a deal, just a matter of preference. And, wasn't there quite a gap between allowing me to top once and asking that I surrender possibly anything I had and was?

I didn't think he'd ask for anything sexual, like I used to fear, but what if he asked for my free will, or something like that? I didn't even know if he could ask for intangible things, like loyalty or devotion.

"What would you ask for, if I forfeited?" I asked him, to give myself an idea of his thoughts on the situation.

He suppressed a smirk, but I saw triumph flash in his eyes before he could hide it completely. _Something is wrong here. He's hiding another of his plans, I'm sure of it._

"Why, Harry, what could I possibly ask of you that I don't already have," he answered in a teasing tone, his eyes roaming on my body in a suggestive manner.

I turned away from him, a bit disgusted by his implication. I had purposely kept from negotiating with anything related to our sexual relationship before because it introduced the concept of sex being used as a commodity. It seemed like the Dark Lord had no problem working with this notion. I chose to address something he implied in his statement, instead.

"I thought I had made this clear a month ago. You don't own me. I am a person. If I choose to be in a relationship with you currently, it doesn't mean that I will always be receptive to it, or that I will only be with you for the rest of my life," I told him in a firm voice.

His facial expression twisted in an ugly snarl and lunged at me, pinning me on the bed under him.

"I think you might have let certain things go to your head, little Horcrux. Maybe I need to refresh your memory and teach you again who is really in power in this relationship."

I glared up at him. I felt our magic warring, but this time crackling ominously with tension.

"You are confusing sexual domination with emotional and physical subservience. I am not a slave or a pet. I will not be treated as such. I will not let you decide exclusively on how this relationship is going or when it should end," I said through clenched teeth. I felt his grip tighten painfully on my shoulders.

"You are mine. My Horcrux. You are clearly delusional if you think I'm going to let you leave me so easily. You belong to me; you will stay with me," he hissed, nearly slipping into Parseltongue.

"I am not going to let myself be thrown away like a used tissue either and watch from the sidelines as you take lover after lover!"

His countenance relaxed slightly and he smirked at me.

"Is that what this is about, then? You are afraid of loosing my favour? Why, Harry, a minute ago, it sounded like you were prepared to throw your enviable position away..."

I growled at him.

"You are not a God! You might be powerful, handsome and intelligent, but it doesn't change anything! You are still a human being who makes mistakes and has emotions... Don't make this be a game of power, please." I ended with a plea, my former anger snuffed out of me.

"Everything is a power play, at one level or another," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Not for me. Not this," I corrected him.

"What is this arrangement, then, pray tell? A romantic relationship? Love?" he said, mockingly.

I lifted my chin defiantly.

"Perhaps," I answered firmly.

He scoffed dismissively.

"Please, I am a Dark Lord, not a teenager.

"What does it change, that you are a Dark Lord? It sounds like an excuse you have every time you get in too deep. You withdraw into that thick shell of yours and state your title again," I challenged him.

"What it changes, brat, is that I have committed more vile acts of pointless cruelty than anyone else alive at the moment. I have delved deeper into Dark Magic than anyone else as well. And none of it made me bat a lash. I have killed and tortured countless men, women, children, babies, even. And I have laughed as they took their last breath on this Earth because I knew that I would never be in their place. If it is true that you were the one prophesied to kill me, I now know that you won't be able to. Don't you realise it? With you firmly at my side, the only one able to kill me, I am virtually invincible...What, did you think I wanted you for your pretty eyes? Not that your tight ass wasn't enjoyable, but it isn't anything special, after all," he revealed mockingly with a cruel smirk on his face.

I winced at his harsh words, despite myself. I always knew there had to be something else. That he couldn't possibly be as entranced by me as I was by him. But dammit, it hurt. It hurt so badly. As if the Dark Lord had just pierced my heart with a sword while laughing at my face.

Then, I felt something snap inside of me. Everything was clear. The Dark Lord was back to being an enemy, and I was in a vulnerable position.

I pulled my legs up in a swift movement, placing my feet on his torso and pushing as hard as I could with a bit of help from my magic. It threw him off me and he smashed against the wall. I climbed up to my feet, quickly Summoning my wand. It smacked in my outstretched hands as magic gathered my clothes and put them on for me. I shot a glance at the prone form of the Dark Lord, frowning. I might have pushed too much magic through my legs when I threw him off me. I felt my lips curl in a sneer and turned sharply away to leave this place quickly, only to stop with one hand on the doorknob as I felt a wave of anger come from him. What stopped me, however, was the brief stab of grief I felt from our link under the overwhelming anger. It lasted for a second before the emotions he felt were cut off from my perception, but it was enough to bring the uncertainty back to my mind.

.

How did our conversation degenerate so? It had started nicely enough, but degenerated quickly the second he mentioned the Duel.

I nearly got lost within my mind and he was frantic to get me out of it. If all he wanted of me was a Horcrux under his control, why wouldn't he want the fragment inside of me to take over?

I let my forehead fall on the wooden surface of the door. Last time I ran out of here didn't do me much good. I had promised myself I would react with maturity from then on. Was I going to run away from my problems again? What was the issue here anyway?

I tried to think of our conversation. It had started with him teasing me by saying that he 'had' my body already. I got mad because of his possessiveness and objectification, but really...hadn't he just said that to provoke me like usual? Hadn't I just risen to the bait? And, hadn't I first negotiated with sex when I traded a public dance for topping? How ridiculous was that, by the way? It didn't make sense. Was everything that had happened between us a power play in his quest for immortality?

I shook my head slowly.

What were the facts?

Fact: he said under a magically binding oath that he cared about me.

Fact: he had tried to prevent me from being lost in my mind.

Fact: he had hired Remus as a tutor to make me feel more comfortable and forced Severus to teach me Potions afterward. He didn't have anything to gain from me having my OWLs.

Fact: I am his Horcrux and the one prophesied to kill him. But instead of chaining me to a wall in a high tower, he let me interact with his Death Eaters; he let me leave the Fortress that other time when we quarrelled; he let me pass a few days at Malfoy Manor before Yule; he let me participate in a fight.

Fact: he had invested a lot of time just to talk to me and get to know me.

Fact: he wanted our relationship known by the population.

Fact: he had no qualms manipulating me and lying to me.

...

Could this whole relationship really be a lie? From the beginning? It felt a bit far-fetched as a manipulation. What would be his goal in lying? Apart from making me forfeit the Duel...but he couldn't have elaborated that plan months ago, could he? And...it felt like he had put a lot of himself, dedicated much more time to this relationship than someone who just wanted a power trip or sexual favours would do. Not to mention that he could have that with basically anybody.

What was this all about, then? This sudden revelation from him who said that he only wanted to eliminate the threat of the Prophecy while taking advantage of how receptive I was...it nearly felt like he had lashed out before I could say what I thought of our relationship. As if his vehement denial and biting sarcasm were in fact...defense mechanisms? Could he be...

My train of thoughts was completely stopped when I felt something push me roughly into the door in front of me. I felt my wand be roughly torn away from my hand while a taller and stronger body flattened me against the wooden pane. I felt his breath wash over my neck and it made me shiver.

"You should have left while you could," said the Dark Lord in a voice dripping with poison.

I shook my head as best as I could from its position close to the door, willing myself to stay calm, despite the aggression and anger that I could feel coming from him.

"I couldn't leave like this. I can't leave without settling some issues. We have to talk, Marvolo," I said in the strongest voice I could manage from my squashed position.

"I don't think I will. You are at my mercy. I would be a fool not to take advantage of it and let you go, after all. I have been too soft with you so far. It is time I teach you another side of sex: the pleasure of pain."

A shudder of arousal passed through me at his dark promises. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I even a bit scared by him?

"Won't the non-aggression clause act up if you hurt me too much?" I asked, to deflect his attention.

He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, pressing me back roughly against the door again. At least, his urge for tackling me on the nearest flat surface hadn't changed since our last conversation.

"Perhaps, but it would hurt you so much more in the process." His eyes roamed over my body, lighting up in lust. "How delicious you would look with your smooth skin covered in blood...

-But then I'd get scars and my skin wouldn't be so smooth anymore..." I tried to reason with him distractedly. I didn't like the insane glint I could see in his eyes. Perhaps he had been affected as well by the blurring of our connection earlier?

"Say, Marvolo, you told me that what I felt earlier was a bit like when you could feel yourself losing your sanity a long time ago, right?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, as if he didn't know where I was heading with that comment and was still pissed off.

"You'd notice if you too were a bit affected by what happened to me earlier, right?

-Are you insinuating that I am becoming insane because I'm threatening you with violence? I can assure you that I've been a sadist well before I was ever insane," he said, smirking mockingly and tightening painfully his grip on me.

"Alright, but you only have two soul pieces in you and Nagini and I are always hanging around. Maybe it would make a big difference if you could reabsorb another one," I tried to convince him. The more I thought of it, the more it made sense, even if I didn't know much about Soul Magic.

"I probably couldn't reabsorb the Horcrux in you without killing you. Is that what you are suggesting? You want to be rid of it badly enough to risk it?"

I shook my head at him, noticing that his grip had relaxed slightly in the meanwhile.

"No, but maybe one of the other Horcruxes you have lying around," I suggested carefully.

"I won't tell you what they are or where they are, if that's what you are after," he said, ever so paranoid.

I huffed at him.

"I'm not trying to lure you into a trap like you do all the time. I was just wondering if that was a possibility for you."

He shook his head.

"I couldn't get most of them from where they are without attracting attention to where or what the others could be. I've lost the only one that I could inconspicuously remove. Someone took it from its hiding place and I can't find it."

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. Was he talking about the Locket or another one?

"Do you think Moody has it?" I tested.

"No, because it hasn't been destroyed. It's still out there somewhere. I can vaguely tell that it's around London somewhere, but London is too large a city for me to be able to pinpoint its exact location."

I hummed in answer, all the while thinking that he was probably talking about the Locket. Perhaps it should be time for me to go and pick it up to give it to him.

But...was he my enemy in the end? So much was still confusing between us.

"Marvolo...could we sit down and talk about this Duel thing calmly? I think we both kind of...panicked about it earlier."

He scoffed and looked away.

"You panicked, perhaps, but I did not," he contradicted dismissively.

I rolled my eyes at the back of his head.

"Of course not," I answered to placate him.

He released my hands and backed away from the door, sitting on the bed and putting his elbows on his knees, scrutinising me.

"I don't understand why you are still here," he said, frowning at me.

I joined him on the bed, sitting at his side and putting a hand on his thigh.

"I wanted to leave, but then I thought that I'd miss my pillow here, you know?" I replied to alleviate the gloom of the conversation.

He barked a dark laugh.

"I refused to be referred to as a pillow. I have many more functions, as you well know," he said, turning a leering smirk in my direction.

I sent him a small smile back, before returning to the serious subject.

"I had a flash, just before I exited the room, about how the next days, and weeks would be like for me, for us. I'd be miserable and cranky, perhaps even slowly becoming insane, if the experiment we did a few days ago is any indication...and even if I wasn't, it's not as if I can ignore the Horcrux link between us, or the fact that we still have this Duel situation to settle. Running away would just have delayed the inevitable moment when we'd have to deal with all of that."

I felt his warm hand slip between the bottom of my shirt and my waistband, his thumb caressing idly the skin there. I sighed at the calming magic and laid a head on his shoulder for a moment while I thought of where to go from there.

"I'm just having trouble...understanding you. I really don't get why you say or do some things," I continued, my voice growing frustrated.

"What do you not understand?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"Well, this relationship, for one. Some months ago, you said under an oath that you cared about me. And then, just ten minutes ago or so, you say it's all part of your big master plan to make sure your 'Prophesied enemy' doesn't try to kill you. I mean, pick one. I am here because you respect me and desire me as a person, or because you are manipulating me all the time and using my body for sexual satisfaction?"

He contemplated his answer for a few moments, before turning his impassive face to look at me again.

"Somewhere in between, I'd reckon. I don't really calculate every single thing we do, but there is a part of me that feels satisfied at having seduced "the One I marked as an equal" over to my side," he revealed with a smug and teasing smirk. "Not that I ever doubted my capacities. You were practically drooling all over me since the moment we met.

-What!" I shouted in outrage while I flushed in embarrassment.

"Ah, ah, Harry," he tut-tutted. "We said we were going to have an honest, calm discussion. Control your temper, little lion," he said in a patronising tone.

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling while I growled in exasperation. But then, I breathed in deeply and returned to the issue.

"I don't think I'm ready to discuss what to do with the Duel, Marvolo," I confessed to him.

He eyed me silently for a minute, before he spoke again in a neutral voice:

"It's not as easily settled as you planned it to be, is it? It complicated matters dramatically and uselessly. It's a moot point, really. None of us wants to kill the other, but none of us wants to surrender either," he pointed out.

"And we are both incredibly stubborn," I interjected helpfully.

"However, you must realise that I ultimately have more to lose than you have? There is not much that you possessed at the time that I could ask for," he pointed out.

I shook my head at him.

"Until I understand exactly from reliable sources of information unrelated to you the scope of what you could or could not ask for if I forfeit, you won't be able to convince me to surrender. No way. I can't rely on your word or any type of oath or contract signed beforehand either, because they would be trumped by the Honor's Duel precedence. On the other hand, if you trusted me enough to keep my word, then everything would be fine. We'd agree that you would give me something trivial like a Galleon or something, and you could forfeit and everything would work out," I explained the dilemma as I saw it.

"And...what about you trusting me to hold my word and you surrendering? Why would it have to be me?" he challenged.

"Because, seriously, after the amount of times you've lied to me and manipulated me, I don't see how I could trust you with that. You, however, have no reason at all to not believe me. I never lied to you, after all."

The Dark Lord huffed a humourless laugh.

"What about everything you are hiding from me? Shouldn't that count as being untrustworthy?"

I frowned at him.

"What are you talking about? I'm not hiding anything!" I exclaimed, shocked.

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

"Twice you have left for an undisclosed location, and I bet you were about to return there just a few moments ago. Do you want to tell me this secret place where you have hidden, since you said you don't hide anything from me?"

I felt my blood drain from my face suddenly. I had forgotten about that.

"And perhaps you should also talk about what happened there to disturb you so the first time, and to practically drain you from your magic the second?" He waited for a few moments, acting mockingly surprised at my refusal to answer.

"Well, aren't you the honest and upfront Gryffindor. You are obviously deserving of my complete trust, as you tried to convince me."

He let the comment hang for a few seconds, before he quickly turned to me and seize my chin in his hand, tilting my head from side to side and scrutinising me.

"You know, in this lighting, you actually look more like a cunning little snake. Perhaps you are the one with a master plan. How should I know?"

He dropped his hand and turned back to face ahead, looking suddenly bored and indifferent.

"I think you should take a few days to think about that. Go visit that secret place of yours again, if you are so fond of it. Do try to come back not so magically depleted this time. We will see how the connection fares. You may contact me if you feel like your sanity is slipping. I wouldn't want another me running amuck in the Muggle World, or something equally disastrous, after all," he said with a dismissive wave.

I felt my eyes widen as pain grew in my chest. Was this how his previous lovers had been discarded? Carelessly? Indifferently?

Was this how it ended, then? I looked at the powerful man who had been my lover for the past few months. I didn't want it to end like that, even if it sounded like a temporary break to think things over. I felt nearly as if I would have been better off running away earlier on. At least then, he wouldn't have had the possibility of giving me this little superior speech of rejection.

I felt infuriated by his behaviour suddenly. I clenched down my anger with difficulty, knowing that he probably wouldn't take keenly into being attacked at the moment, and that it wouldn't help my case.

"So," I began in a voice as detached as I could make it sound. "I suppose that in this little...pause, I would be free of...exploring new horizons then." I observed his reaction carefully.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion at me, before smoothing his facial features again.

"And which type of horizons are we talking about here?" he asked in a measuredly bored tone.

"Well, you know, maybe I'd like to go to a Muggle pub and find some nice guy to bring back to my 'secret place'? Since you don't care much about me anyway, I don't see what the..." I started to say, until the Dark Lord interrupted me by attacking me with his lips, shoving his tongue in my mouth, pushing me on the bed and straddling me, I wasn't complaining, however, because this was exactly how I wanted him to react.

When he withdrew his lips from mine, he tightened his grasp on my arms painfully hissed in Parseltongue:

_§ You are mine, my Horcrux, until the day you die, and nothing will change that. §_

I smirked up at him, replying:

_§ As long as it's mutual, I've got no problem with it. §_

As he started biting and sucking his way down my neck, I couldn't help the shit-eating grin that stretched on my face. I might go take a little holiday, but we would be fine in the end. If everything else failed, I could always count of the Dark Lord's possessiveness...

* * *

So, another break to think things over for our poor Harry who doesn't know what to think of his relationship with the Dark Lord.

Do you think that Voldemort was telling the truth when he said that he was just using Harry? Were you surprised that Harry didn't leave immediately? What do you think of the fact that the Dark Lord sort of forced Harry into acknowledging their connection in public? And of Harry's speech?

A lot of things happened in this chapter! Let me know what you thought of it! :)


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to everyone that supports me by reviewing, favouriting and following this story! You guys are awesome and I would have given up ages ago if it weren't for you! :)

A special thanks to the reviewers that I couldn't contact directly: Guest (x2), Cherrie-san, Charlie0925 and FanFiction Lover. :D

Boblove 321: So you don't think that Voldemort is at least partly using Harry? Do you think that love will triumph in this story? ^^

Summary of the last chapter: Some of the Rebels tortured Neville for information before the Dark Army arrived and brought down the Camp. He is found by Draco and Lucius. Harry's status as the Dark Lord's lover is out in the news. The two had a fight and Harry was sent away to take some time to think about the way he was behaving (what he was hiding for Voldemort and his lies) and their relationship.

* * *

Chapter 42: 26th of December: Happy Yule Holidays

"I demand to speak with Harry Potter!" shouted the boy again, undeterred by the lack of reaction of his guards. He had woken up the day before, and since then, had resolved to call for Harry's presence until it was granted to him.

He wasn't stupid, he had understood pretty quickly what happened. The Rebel Camp had been eradicated, and most of those with which he had grown up were now dead. Harry had led the Dark Army to them.

At first, he had felt very angry with his old friend. He still was, in a way. But after about 24 hours in this room where he had awoken, healed and settled in a comfortable bed with a platter of good food at his side and minimal surveillance, he had understood a few things. This wasn't a prison, but the safe house that Harry had promised for him and all the other Rebels who wanted to settle peacefully. Harry hadn't promised anything regarding the rest of the Rebels, so he hadn't exactly broken their agreement. But he still couldn't believe that someone he had considered a friend would condone such a massacre. It seemed like the torture he suffered at the end of some of the...harsher Rebels was not unjustified like he had first thought. Harry didn't just intend to pick up the peaceful members of the Camp.

And then he learnt that this safe house belonged to the Dark Lord and that Harry was his lover. He tried to picture it in his head, but couldn't. What kind of relationship could he have with an emotionless monster? It must be horrible. Maybe the Dark Lord had surprised their exchange of letters and Harry had been forced to negotiate with him. The safety of a few against the lives of the others. Maybe he even had to bargain with his body.

Neville felt sick at the thought.

Had Harry been coerced into taking a decision?

He certainly hoped that his former friend didn't plan on bringing Death to their doors, because he couldn't imagine how he would live with himself if he had been the one to make such a deal.

.

o0o0o

It was late that night and he was still pondering the fate of his fellow Rebels when the door to his room opened. Harry shuffled in, looking exhausted and wearing expansive formal robes. He had dark circles under his eyes and was clutching some sort of necklace hidden in his robes.

Neville stayed silent as he looked at Harry's tired countenance. The young man didn't look very healthy. Maybe the guilt was weighting down on his soul ever since the attack. As bad as it might be, it reassured him that Harry was so affected by what happened. Maybe he was right in thinking that Harry had been coerced into bringing Death Eaters with him for the rescue operation. If only he had been awake during the Attack, then he would have a better idea of what happened. As it was, he could only guess that his torture stopped when the Rebels noticed Harry's arrival and put him unconscious to keep him from escaping.

Harry moved to the armchair next to him and collapsed on it with a sigh. At first, Harry just stayed there, looking straight ahead and ignoring him.

Neville waited. Harry was never the most patient guy and he hated the type of silence that was stretching between them at the moment.

Surely enough, after less than a minute, Harry started fidgeting and shot him his first glance. Neville frowned. He didn't know what to make of Harry's facial expression.

"How are you, Neville?" Harry asked after a moment.

"I'm fine, physically speaking. I'm not so fine when I think about the people that I loved who were killed because of you, though," he bit out, angrier than he thought he'd be. Why did he feel like a powerless kid in all this? When some members of the Rebel council had tried to extract information from him, he had held fast to allow the others a chance to escape. Now, it turned out he was holding out to allow the Dark Army to bring them all down. When he thought he had finally done something good to take control of his life, it turned out that he was just manipulated. He was probably condemned to mediocrity. It was so frustrating to feel like the little power and freedom you had was taken away from you.

"They would have found the Rebel Camp sooner or later anyway. At least now, those who didn't want to fight were spared," droned out Harry tiredly.

"It doesn't make it just or fair," he replied. "Those people deserved to be brought to justice and put in prison at the utmost. Not to be killed indiscriminately." _No matter how much I disapproved with their methods and how unjustified the Cruciatus they shot at me were, killing people just because they oppose you will always be wrong_, he continued mentally.

"What makes you think they wouldn't have been executed after their trial? I thought dying in combat was this glorious end that every fighter wants to have," Harry pointed out with a humourless smirk. The joke was in bad taste. Harry had always been slightly socially awkward like that.

"I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you can be here, mocking me about the deaths of the people with which we grew up. Don't you even feel guilty for having led the Dark Lord to the Camp?" he questioned, because he needed to know how much of his former friend was still left in that person.

Harry put a hand on his heart and rubbed it slightly, looking worried. After a moment, he sighed.

"I don't know, Nev. I just feel empty inside. Nothing at all. I figure I don't feel bad because a part of me knows that the ones that were killed chose to take part in the Rebellion. They knew the risks...

-They signed up for a better world. None of them wanted to kill or to be killed. Some of them had no choice. After the war, fourteen years ago, the purges were so intense that they would probably have been sent to prison or been executed. If not, they would have struggled to live because no one wanted to employ someone that fought for the Light. They just did what they thought was best in their situation. They didn't sign up to be criminals or anything," he argued. So Harry didn't feel remorse? None at all?

"So you think that they were right when they blew up the Ministry, then?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"The decision to attack the Ministry incident that day was not unanimous. Most of us didn't even know what would happen exactly. The battle in the Camp, though, that was an indiscriminate massacre," replied Neville. He did not condone the attack on the Ministry. That had showed to him that the Rebels had strayed too far. But, from what he had heard of the raid on the Camp, it was much worse.

"What did you want them to do? Stay there while they shot at us with Muggle guns? And who are you, exactly, to say what was the best decision to take? If I remember correctly, you wanted out of the Rebels and asked for my help. And now that you're out, you're already nostalgic about 'the good old times'?" challenged Harry.

Neville bowed his head and frowned at the carpet, trying to put his thoughts in order. Both the Rebels and the Dark Army had committed horrible crimes, in his head. He didn't want anything to do with either of them. He looked up again to watch Harry and wondered if Harry sometimes was nostalgic about his time with the Rebels and if that justified the mocking tone Harry had taken when he used those words.

"I said I wanted peace. I didn't want anyone to die. What you did, Harry, bringing the Dark Lord and his army to the Camp...it was so wrong. You nearly got them all killed," he declared with a dead voice. He knew that a part of them were still safe. Those who had been forced to sit out the fight by the rest of the Rebels. It wasn't nearly as many people as he would have been able to saved had he been out there, or so he thought with frustration and grief tightening his chest.

"They brought it on themselves by not surrendering and by being part of a terrorist organisation," Harry defended.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

"Oh, come on. Apart from the Ministry disaster, they had never done more damage than breaking a few windows to give a bit of a fright," he argued.

"Did you know that two years ago, I witnessed a raid in Diagon Alley where they cut a man's wand hand off and would have killed a child if I hadn't been there? It was more than just harmless mischief. They stole everything they could get their hands on and got rid of anything or anyone blocking their way. I saw Tonks that day. Did you know that she was still alive? Alive and kicking, still working for the Aurors and apparently preggers with Remus' kid. Crazy, right? If the Rebels were so wonderful, why did they keep lying to us about stuff like that? Doesn't that make you wonder what else they lied about?" pressed Harry, letting his question hang at the end of his tirade, as if he wanted Neville to give an answer. The latter didn't know what to reply, so he stayed silent. He wasn't holding the Rebels as paragons of virtues either anyway. That illusion had shattered many bad decisions and horrifying councils sessions ago.

"I'll tell you why. They wanted sheep. Good, clueless Prophecy children to do their dirty work while they pretended they were Magic's gift on Earth. That Camp was messed up and I'm glad it burnt down!" Harry spat angrily.

That shook him to the bone, however. There was an important difference for him between disapproving with someone and wanting them dead.

"You're...glad that all those people died? You're not even sad for their families?" he asked incredulously. He thought that if there were someone who would sympathise with decimated families, it would have been Harry.

Harry visibly deflated at that. He suddenly looked as exhausted as when he came in and gripped whatever pendant was beneath his shirt tighter.

"I'm not glad they died. If it were just for me, we wouldn't even have had to intervene. The Dark Lord told me he'd probably have left them alone if they hadn't 'upped their games' recently with the aggressive raids and the bomb. So, no, I'm not glad. I think it was unfair. But I understand why it needed to be done. With Moody in charge, the movement has degenerated. We were supposed to stand for the 'good', to strive for a better society. But the Rebels had become, at best, vandals and scavengers, and at worst, terrorists and murderers...So yeah, I'm glad, in a way, that the Camp is down. Even if that means that all those people died..." he admitted, trailing off with a pensive frown.

Neville scrutinised the one he had considered a friend for so long.

"The guy I knew would have never been glad. He hated the idea of killing and would be buried under regrets by now. You've changed," he pronounced with a voice filled of regrets. So, his friend had died in the end.

"I had to grow up. I couldn't stay in my little happy bubble working in gardens like you did," defended Harry. The accusation was unfair, but he let it slide because he was more than the blubbering gardener he had been. He liked to think that he grew up, some time between seeing the void gazes of his parents on him for the first time and twitching on the ground as he looked at one of his tutors yelling at him to give them the information they needed on the day of the Attack.

"You let them change you," challenged Neville. 'And not for the better' was left unsaid.

Harry let out a bitter laugh.

"What? Are you going to say that I was 'converted by the Dark Side' or something cheesy like that? Because I had to get rid of that twisted place?

-You grew up there! They were your family! Sirius," he began, but was interrupted by Harry.

"They were not my family! They were a bunch of obsessive, borderline cruel tutors who did their best to turn me into a mindless killing machine! And don't you dare bring Sirius into it! He's got nothing to do with this!" shouted Harry.

"He's got everything to go with this! He got killed for the Rebels! For you. What do you think he'd say if he were here today?" asked Neville.

Harry flinched visibly and bowed down his head. So he could still feel something, after all. Just, not about the Attack.

"He wouldn't have let the Rebels go so bad. He would have stood up to Moody.

-You could have been the one to reason with Moody if you'd stayed. Maybe that's all we needed," challenged Neville.

Harry shook his head in protest.

"I was just a kid. Still am, in a way. Who knows if my staying would have done anything? Moody never listened to me when I was there in the first place anyway...And why didn't you stand up if you're so much better than I am?

It was Neville's turn to bow his head in shame. He had tried to, but had failed pathetically.

"I was weak, that's true," he confessed, before straightening up. "But I won't be anymore," he declared firmly.

"So what are you going to do, then? Wait until they let you out and seek Moody out as soon as possible?

-No, not Moody," he contradicted. _Never Moody_, he reinforced. The gruff old Auror was the worst of them. He might not have been alive if Moody had been there. The old man had long ago abandoned the hope that Neville could serve any useful purpose, after all.

"Then who?" asked Harry. To whom could Neville turn? The only person he knew outside the Camp was Harry and, to a lesser extent, Tonks. But did that really matter? He was tired of being told he couldn't do anything.

"I'm going to do what is right," Neville declared firmly.

"Let me guess. Instead of what is easy. Dumbledore's adage, Neville? Are you going to restart the Order?" Harry asked, a badly disguised point of curiosity in his voice. The Order had always been an ideal to aspire to in the Rebel Camp, after all. When they were younger, Dumbledore was held up in their minds close to a divine level. That was how they were brought up.

"Maybe," he answered, uncertain of what his decision to stand up for justice entailed.

"They'll never let you out of here with that sort of mentality," Harry warned rightfully.

"I won't tell them then," he replied smartly.

"How good are your Occlumency shields?" asked Harry.

He shrugged.

"Not bad.

-That's not enough," said Harry, before pausing and looking at him considerately.

"Tell you what. If you promise to take decisions that stay within the legal framework of this regime, I might be able to get you out of this safe house. After all, it's easier to put changes in place while going with the flow instead of against it. This is a dictatorship, they won't let you oppose it too directly. And remember, the upper levels of government in this regime are nearly entirely upheld by Slytherins. You have to show what's in it for them when you want to carry out changes. You're lucky that you are a Pureblood and that the Longbottom name is an old and powerful one. You might be able to get support if you do this properly," explained Harry, getting a bit enthusiastic.

Neville, however, was still lukewarm to the idea. He knew he wasn't cut to be a politician, after all.

"I don't think I could manage it," he admitted sincerely.

"What's the alternative, then? Are you going to reform the Order and attack random people around? Form another Rebellion? Go kill some Ministers to show that you are not to be trifled with? Be serious, Neville. You said you wanted peace, right? The best way for that is just to take your ideas, and make them heard pacifically. Without outright declaring yourself an enemy of the regime, of course," reasoned Harry.

It made a lot of sense. And Neville couldn't imagine himself actively attacking anyone without provocation. But...why was Harry suggesting something like that? Wasn't he with the Dark Lord? Would the Dark Lord accept political opposition to his regime like Harry encouraged him to do? Was this another trap? He didn't know if he could trust Harry after what he did to the Rebel Camp.

"Harry...won't the Dark Lord get mad that you suggested something like that to me?" he asked tentatively.

Harry shrugged and had a sad smile.

"He knows I don't agree with his way to govern. It's not as if I'm asking you to create political unrest, or anything like that. You have to subtly suggest improvements, that's all," Harry reasoned.

Neville shook his head. He wouldn't even attempt to understand how Harry could have a relationship, as twisted as it probably was, with someone of such different morals and perspectives. That is, if he hadn't been coerced into it at all, which still wasn't clear to him.

"I wouldn't know how to do that. I'm not an expert in politics. The only thing I'm good at is with plants," he stated neutrally.

"So use that, then," answered Harry suddenly.

"What?" he asked, bewildered. What had that to do with anything?

"Use that knowledge with plants and apply it to politics!" Harry said, as if it made perfect sense. "You know how you always tell people around how to treat your plants? Just do the same, but applied on politics. If you say stuff like 'Just like Devil's Snare can only grow in darkness, the current regime needs less of the glorious light of our benevolent leader' or something like that," waxed Harry pseudo-poetically with a weird grin on his face.

"Er, Harry, I don't think the Dark Lord would like to be called 'light'," Neville pointed out.

"Right. Right," Harry agreed, before sinking down in his armchair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his nose tiredly. Maybe he was so exhausted that he wasn't so coherent anymore? Why did Harry come to see him at that moment, then? Why not the day after, when he'd be less tired?

"That was rubbish, you were right. It's fine if you can't do it, I mean. Politics are not for everyone, of course. It was just, you know, an idea. I don't know, I just thought. You never know. And since I'm pretty settled in the political exchequer now, maybe I had that silly thought, that maybe you would, could, should..." babbled Harry, while shaking his head.

Neville frowned at him.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look...frazzled, Harry," he pointed out.

Harry looked at him in surprise.

"Frazzled? Right, no, I'm just tired, that's all. Trouble sleeping and all. Eh, what do you want? Happens to the best and worst of us, right?" he said, nervously clenching his hand on the pendant under his shirt.

It occurred to Neville then that Harry, for all his talk about not caring for the deaths of the other Rebels, probably had a hard time coping with what happened. He remembered Harry's expression when he said he was feeling empty inside. Perhaps Harry was troubled because he didn't feel guilty. Something in him eased at the thought, even if the conclusion worried him.

So, Neville didn't like this regime and probably never would forgive the Dark Lord and his army for storming in and killing the people he considered his family. But Harry was not with them directly. And he had offered him a chance to be free, as long as he was marginally willing to play along. Work on bettering the regime from its inside. That was a viable option.

And he would then be in a better position to help his friend when he was in trouble, hopefully. And he wouldn't hesitate to rescue him, even from the Dark Lord's clutches if he saw that Harry was abused in any way.

His decision taken, he looked at his friend and said:

"I think I'll take you up on that offer, in the end."

Harry's eyes widened disbelievingly for a second, and then his lips stretched in a relieved smile. That cemented his decision. For all his cool and uncaring act, Harry had been worried about him. And that was enough to work with at that point. Perhaps all hope was not lost for his old friend, after all.

.

o0o0o

30th of December.

I sat on the Regulus' old bed in Grimmauld Place, the Locket held tightly in my palm. I knew that this little object was the only thing that had kept me sane in this place. That, and the brief moments when I'd seen the Dark Lord in the past week.

Since my departure from his Fortress, I had only seen the man at official functions. Things had not been too strained between us, surprisingly. Every time we met up, he'd surreptitiously check for bruises on my neck and other such indications, and I'd...I supposed...reacquaint myself with his magic and his presence slowly. After a few minutes, we'd both minutely relax in each other's company again. It was a mystery why I still wasn't back at his manor, really. Every day, it was becoming less and less clear why I had left at all. He hadn't said that he didn't want me there. He had just said that I had some thinking to do about my own motives and how I was playing my relationship with him.

Lucius and Draco kind of guessed that something had happened, but they couldn't really pinpoint it, apart from slightly awkward moments from me when either of them would mention my residence at the Dark Lord's Fortress.

I had done a lot of thinking, and I had researched Horcruxes in the Black's library in the meanwhile. It had left me with a few conclusions.

Firstly, the process of doing a Horcrux was lot more gruesome and frightening than I thought it would be.

Secondly, although Marvolo was a Dark Lord with everything that it implied in bloodshed and absent conscience, he had always treated me well. I didn't know if I was an exception because of the Horcrux in my scar, but compared with his interactions with Lucius and Severus and a few others of his Inner Circle, he was more tolerant and generous with me. He had even tried to get to know me. So, his interest in me, Harry, and not, me, his Horcrux, was obvious.

Thirdly, the Dark Lord had invested more of himself in this relationship than I had with my cavalier 'this is just a mutually beneficial agreement' attitude and perspective. I had given him quite the advantage when I allowed him to show our relationship to the public, but so far, that was the only thing I had put in line for him. All the rest was just me taking, taking, taking. Taking his offer of a pardon, taking back my vaults, taking a part of his freedom away with the Duel, taking the tuition, taking the accommodation and the food, taking the friendships and links offered from those who were closed to him.

When I thought about it, by trying to keep myself aloof and protected, and not meeting him in his generosity, I had ended up putting him in the role of provider and me in the role of receiver and essentially accepting the role of the submissive, or worse, of the leech.

As it was, I deliberately prevented our relationship from growing naturally into more than a sexual arrangement and companionship by trying to shield my heart.

Fourthly, when he had said harshly that all he wanted from me was guaranteed immortality, he had only told me exactly what I was waiting for him to say. Defense mechanism or not, he had made me face my fears, in a way. He had lashed back to make me leave him. And that told me that he wanted me to say more than he let show.

Who knew the Dark Lord could understand me so well? Occlumency shields were really useless against such a perceptive man.

So, where did that reflection left me? If I wanted more of him, I needed to put myself in the line. What was I not ready to give up?

My political allegiance, because I sincerely thought that this regime could be better if he modified certain aspects of it, particularly in the case of blood discrimination. And I hoped that Neville might be able to help me with that, since he hadn't been branded as the Dark Lord's lover publicly.

My safe haven, Grimmauld Place, because I at least needed one as a failsafe, as things had a tendency to get ugly quickly between us, and this was the most warded a house could get.

My contact with Remus...Neville's life...my friendship with Draco and, to a certain extent, with Lucius...

But he wasn't asking me to give up any of that. The only thing for which he was asking was that I give up the Duel, and I wasn't ready for that. He had seemed to understand, though, the last time we talked.

So, on what was I going to compromise, to make our relationship healthier?

I could give him the Locket. It had been a failsafe for my sanity a few times now, but it was a piece of his soul, and he was probably worried over losing it. It didn't belong to me at all; in fact, I should have brought it to him when I first discovered it. I still didn't know why I hadn't. It wasn't as if I had planned to destroy it or anything of the kind, after all. I had just...greedily kept it.

But what he had really wanted, above all, was for me to just acknowledge the fact that I had my secrets just like he had his. There were a few things that I wanted to keep to myself and I couldn't pretend to being completely honest with him either. Some of those secrets, however, were straining our relationship.

One of the things that I was prepared to share to reduce the tension between us was to, once and for all, stop hiding my duelling and magical skills. One of the problems of me withholding my true duelling abilities was that it introduced the notion that I still kept myself ready for the eventual Duel. And that introduced a stress to our relationship; a useless stress, even, because I was pretty sure that I could never duel him to death...not after everything that had happened between us. Not after I fell in love with him...

It could be fun, actually, to have mock duels with him once the secrets were out of the way. Then he could show me how to fly and we could have a good time...

I smiled a bit to myself when I thought of that scenario.

.

My decision taken, I got up to my feet quickly, still holding on tight to the Horcrux and hurried downstairs before I could chicken out of my new resolution. It was nearing midnight, and tomorrow (or in a few minutes) would be the Dark Lord's birthday. I held no presumption that my return to his side would be a gift sufficient for what he deserved, but I didn't really have anything precious with me, and I hoped the Horcrux and the secrets would sweeten up the deal.

When I reached the landing, I twisted sharply and Apparated to the Dark Lord's Fortress. I landed in the entrance parlour and felt the Slytherin wards welcome me with a pleased tingling. I smiled a bit at the feeling and sought the Dark Lord's location with my magic.

He was in the library, at this time? It shouldn't have surprised me, really. The man did love his research. His location helped a bit to assuage my fears that I would find him with another man in his bed.

I checked the link; it was as closed as it had been since our last discussion. If I wasn't letting him in, he wouldn't either. I relaxed my Occlumency shields slightly. He had never pried in my mind so far, and he always seemed to know what I was thinking anyway, so they were a bit pointless.

I stood in front of the door to the library for a few instants, listening intently to try to find out what he was doing in there. I could hear the steady scratching of a quill on parchment. He was working so late and so close to his birthday. I hoped he wouldn't mind me interrupting him.

I knocked at the door, not really knowing if I should just barge in, since he obviously knew that I was there.

I heard a distracted hum answer my request and opened the door. The room was shrouded in darkness. He was not working at the central table as usual, but in an armchair in a corner of the room, a dying fire lighting up his work. He appeared to be writing a letter to someone. The image of the darkened room and of his face lit up by the glow of the fire was so strikingly similar to the first dream I ever had of him that I nearly took a step backwards in shock.

A cup of red wine was placed on the table at his side, seemingly untouched as he focused on his task. I wondered who was important enough to warrant an answer at this hour. Jealously and frustration coursed through me for the shortest moment before I clenched it down viciously. It was ridiculous, really.

I saw him quirk a small smirk at the feeling that had probably travelled through our connection.

I went to sit next to him in an adjacent armchair, resolved into waiting as long as it would take. As I sat, however, the Dark Lord quickly turned his head to me, his eyes falling directly on his Locket that was still clenched tightly in my hand.

I saw fury build up in his gaze but, before he could accuse me of hunting down his Horcrux and threatening him with it or anything of the kind, I lifted my hand and placed the Locket on the small table at his side, close to his wine glass.

I looked at the piece of metal that had been my companion for the past few days and I couldn't help but to feel a little regret at never being able to see it again. It was silly, I knew, but I had had a few discussions with that Horcrux in the last days and, once I got past his obvious egocentrism, I had learnt to deal better with my status as a Horcrux with his help.

I carefully lifted my gaze up to the Dark Lord's. He looked...somewhat between angry and bewildered. That was already better than before.

"I found it," I said a bit uselessly.

"Where?" he asked in a curt voice.

"In the safe place where I went a few times," I answered, evading the question despite my intentions for keeping an honest and open conversation as long as possible. I looked at him hesitantly. He was back to looking furious.

I sighed a bit.

"Please don't ask me where it is. It's somewhere in London. I just found it there by coincidence; I didn't go and search for it, I swear. I didn't do anything to it. It has just been keeping me sane in the past days..." I told him, before drifting off, not really knowing what to say other than that.

He frowned and watched me carefully.

"I had wondered at the lack of crisis. This is an appropriate explanation. Why bring this to me now? Did you think I would ask you to show proof that you had it?" he asked in a detached voice. His answer to all this was confusing me. I had nearly forgotten how little I understood of his thought process.

"Er, well. I thought...that you would want it back? So I brought it to you? You seemed worried that it had disappeared," I explained my actions as best I could.

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

"Because you thought I didn't already know that you had it? You came back here twice reeking of my magic and every time I met you in the past week, you were so drenched in my essence that I would have suspected that you had somehow managed to have sex with my soul fragment, if I didn't know that this one couldn't take a corporal form."

I felt my eyes widen at his words, before I frowned in vague disapproval of his joke. I decided to try on my new policy of being honest even when it exposed me a bit.

"I would never cheat on you, not even with other pieces of yourself," I stated firmly, meeting his eyes dead on.

He leaned back on his seat, a small smirk gracing his lips as he joined his fingers in thought and observed me.

"Your new resolution?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at me with his hand.

I nodded decidedly; unsurprised that he had caught on so quickly to what I was trying to convey.

His smirk quirked up slightly on one side before he said:

"I like it."

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead at the admission and my lips stretched in a smile without my permission. I frowned again, however, remembering what he had just told me.

"So...what do you want me to do with the Locket, if you don't want it?" I asked him.

He examined me closely again for a few moments.

"Keep it," he told me dismissively, as if he hadn't just told me to keep hold of another piece of his soul, another key to his immortality.

"If I ever need it, you'll know where to get it," he continued, confusing me impossibly more.

"Why would you ever need it?" I asked him, bewildered.

"You never know. Something could happen to me. I have learnt from my first encounter with you as a baby that one could never be too careful in those matters, and that, sometimes, an offhand comment like the one I just said could very well save me a lot of trouble," he explained in vague terms.

I didn't really understand, but I didn't press for more. He would tell me more of this story in due time. I would let him have his secrets if he allowed mine.

I had forgotten that he had seen me as a child, or that he had marginally known my parents_. It must feel a bit weird for him to be in a relationship with someone he met as a baby._ I asked him as much, because I was curious.

He barked a laugh at my unexpected question.

"Believe it or not, despite being a Dark Lord, because of your age, I did have reservations about starting this 'arrangement' we have, as you call it..."

"Relationship," I said, interrupting him.

"Is it, now?" he asked, with a faint smile.

I nodded at him resolutely.

"I would like to call it like that, if that's fine with you," I told him, still strong in my new honesty.

He only smirked in reply.

"As I was saying then, I did wonder if it was not...inappropriate of me to pursue you because of your age. In the Muggle world, after all, it would be considered as pedophilia, and, despite my numerous...deviances, this is not a term with which I ever classified myself, to be perfectly honest...but then, well. You were mature enough for your age and seemed hopelessly fascinated by me. I didn't see how it could be wrong. We are better than the Muggles for a reason, after all, aren't we?" he finished with a teasing question to provoke me.

"Not necessarily in everything, but I guess I can't fault your reasoning when I like the answer it led to," I replied noncommittally, knowing better than to leap against the racist generalisation.

We lapsed into silence for a few instants, detailing each other, before he spoke again.

"So, you are returning to me as a man confident of his new resolution, aren't you, Harry? Did you think that showing up here on my birthday with a Horcrux in hand and a few honest answers, and not even all of them, in fact, would be enough?" he challenged.

I shook my head.

"I have thought a lot, and I have realised that I haven't been fair to you in this relationship. I have kept this double standard that your conduct and everything you said had to be...irreproachable because you were the Dark Lord and I was right to be leery of you, while I have behaved...sometimes questionably and thought it was perfectly acceptable because, in my head, I was the 'good and honest guy'." I lifted my head to look at him directly. "I apologise for my behaviour. You haven't done anything to me to deserve that."

He barked a humourless and self-deprecating laugh that I had never heard before.

"Haven't I, now?" he asked rhetorically, before shaking his head at me. "Don't go on the other extreme now, Harry. I am still the Dark Lord. I have killed your parents, killed some of your childhood companions and been indirectly responsible for the death of your godfather. I very nearly killed you when I first met you. I am not a fragile and delicate creature and neither am I a 'good guy'," he shot back, smirking at me as always.

I frowned at him.

"I know that. But still, I'll try to be more fair now," I confirmed anyway.

He shrugged indifferently, waiting for the rest of it.

"I have also decided that I wanted to train with you and have mock duels, if you wanted," I continued firmly.

He lifted an eyebrow at that.

"And what of the element of surprise you wanted to keep so close to your chest?" he asked cautiously. "Wouldn't you want to keep it for an eventual showdown between us?" he egged on.

I bit my lip in though while I pondered the right way of putting it.

"I am not forfeiting but, at this point, I am stating that I have no intention of ever being in a serious Duel against you. And that's all I can offer at the moment," I said, watching his reaction closely.

He didn't really react to what I was saying, except for turning away from me and contemplating the dying fire in front of him, deep in thought.

After a while, he turned back to me.

"This will do for now, I suppose. It is late, however, and I have a long and painful day before me tomorrow. Are you joining me tonight, Harry?" he asked as if the last week didn't happen and I would just naturally return in his bed. Which I totally would, by the way. As if I could ever refuse that man, really.

I shook my head at my own hopeless thoughts before following him out of the library.

Something he said came back to me.

"What is going to happen tomorrow to be so painful?" I asked him.

"We will be going to Malfoy Manor and my followers, one by one, are going to present me their birthday gifts and wishes," he said, mockingly shuddering at the thought.

I lifted an eyebrow at that.

"I thought you would love to receive all those gifts! And if you don't, why do you do it at all?" I asked uncomprehendingly.

He sighed.

"When I instituted this tradition about twenty years ago, I didn't have nearly as much funds as I have now and I imagined that they would all present me with riches and precious artefacts. It was a well thought-out move. I hadn't counted on how redundant it would be and how insipid most of the gifts would be, however. One of the only reasons I kept the tradition is for the occasional surprise I get every year or so. A nice heirloom, a rare book to add to my collection. The rest goes directly to my vaults to cumulate some interest and dust," he explained, while passing an arm across my shoulders and steering me into his bedroom.

"There is, however, another hidden motive behind tomorrow's proceedings..." he said secretively.

"As always with you," I teased him.

He warningly tightened his grip on my shoulders before sending me a smirk.

"If you manage to find what it is, I will give you a nice belated Yule gift," he whispered enticingly in my ear.

I felt a thrill pass through me at his words and suddenly knew I would be paying close attention to the proceedings the day after.

When he pushed me against the door of his bedroom and titled my head to press a hungry kiss to my lips, I couldn't help but think:

_It was good to be home._

.

* * *

So, Neville seems to have agreed to help Harry politically and the two lovers made amends. Harry promised to himself to be more open about their relationship, but doesn't that make him more vulnerable, in a way? What if Voldemort only lets him keep his secrets because he already knows them?

Next chapter will have everything: progression in their relationship, danger, new characters and a very unexpected and quite dramatic turn of events. Stay 'tuned'!

Thank you in advance for reviewing!


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hi everyone! I have noticed a certain drop in the reviews I have received for the last chapter and just want to say this: the total amount of reviews I get isn't that important to me. What I want, and need, is feedback on the chapters I post. I will easily admit to being self-conscious and a bit uncertain concerning my writing and each comment I receive goes to reassure me that people are still interested in my story and that I have to continue writing it. There is a direct correlation between your enthusiasm for this story and my enthusiasm for it. So, please, let me know what you think of it. Your comments help me a lot.

I still reply to each review I get in PMs, but I want to also take this space to thank those who favourited and followed this story and my guest reviewers.

FanFiction Lover: I'm glad I made you see new horizons. I had the feeling you'd react strongly to that slash, hehehe. ;)

Summary of the previous chapter: Harry goes back to the Dark Lord on the night of his birthday and brings him the Locket, only to be entrusted with its protection by the Dark Lord. Harry has a new resolution not to hide his skills from Marvolo and to invest more of himself in their relationship to make it work better.

Warning: mature themes in the second section of the chapter. (or 'how to tell you it might be upsetting without giving what will happen away')

* * *

Chapter 43: 31st of December 1997, Part one: Happy Birthday, Dark Lord

The next morning, I was sitting in a chair that the Dark Lord had conjured to the left of his throne. Well, he had conjured a straight-backed, not very comfortable one, and I had taken on myself to make it a bit more...cushiony, at the very least, to accommodate my slightly painful ass. The Dark Lord hadn't been so gentle the night before. Or this morning. Not that I had anything to complain about. It had been simply brilliant, especially after so long.

Said Dark Lord, by the way, had sent me the most perverted and smuggest grin I had ever seen on his face when he saw me modify the chair. As if he hadn't conjured it as uncomfortable as he could for that exact reason. Damn infuriating man.

But, well, it was his birthday, so I let him have his fun. From what he told me, it would be a long a boring day, but I was looking forward to see what his Death Eaters would give him.

There was a strategy behind the procedure, or so had the Dark Lord told me. He had challenged me to find it by the end of the day, and I was intent on proving that I wasn't too shabby a strategist, even if it had never been my forte. The gift I would get if I had the correct answer was just a secondary reason for my interest, of course.

In any case, it was with great attention that I looked at the setting and the gathered crowd.

We were in Malfoy Manor, probably because he didn't want all those potential traitors behind the wards of his Fortress; or, maybe, to honour the Malfoys for their good service. But why honour Lucius in particular? He was the Dark Lord's Minister already, and that was quite the reward. What had he done for the Dark Lord that was important to be worth both the Minister position and this? It wasn't anything to do with his duelling skills, according the others Death Eaters I had met. Others like Crouch wanted the title of Minister, so why not rotate them after a while?

I shook my head to get focused on the present. The answers wouldn't come to me automatically. I just needed to observe at this point.

All his marked Death Eaters had gathered before us before splitting in half: those that weren't there had to have their Master's permission for missing this 'important ceremony'. It was a bit strange that the Dark Lord wanted them to perceive the time spent with him on his birthday as a privilege, and at the same time forced them to attend...

There were about fifty of them in front of us, at the moment. Another fifty or so waited outside for this group to be done. At 9am exactly, Severus stepped forward. I wondered if the order was predetermined or meant something. Nobody else had tried to contest Severus's first place. Perhaps there was a routine established throughout the years.

"In honour of my esteemed Master's birthday, I present thee my latest Potion. It is an advanced Truth Potion which allows the interrogator to use Legilimency at the same time without risking to lose any information when tearing the fabric of the mind," explained Severus as he 'humbly' presented the vial to the Dark Lord. The latter shifted forward in interest and took it from the Potions Master's hands. He checked the colour and consistence for a while before he returned his attention to Severus.

"Does it have a name?" he asked.

"My Lord, with your permission, I would name it 'the Plain Truth'.

-Well done, Severus" praised the Dark Lord. "We will meet soon and you will explain to me its composition and brewing process," he ordered.

Severus only bowed shallowly in answer and left the room.

I frowned at his back. I would have thought that the Death Eaters would need to stay after presenting their presents. Perhaps it was a status thing and Severus had permission to leave because he had to head back to Hogwarts. I turned to Marvolo who was watching me from the corner of his eye, probably trying to see if I had the answer to his riddle already. I shook my head negatively. He sent me a small smirk. The next Death Eater stepped forward confidently.

I didn't know who he was.

"My Lord, I bring you a family heirloom from the Nott family. It is a bracelet that is said to have belonged to Merlin himself..."explained what was probably Lord Nott.

I winced interiorly. Didn't the man know that the Dark Lord didn't care for Merlin at all?

"Does this...adornment...has any special ability, Nott?" asked the Dark Lord in a chilling voice.

The poor man who had been so confident before now faltered at his Master's tone.

"Well, that is, my Lord, well, it has the standard protection spells on it, not that you need them, of course, and well, it is made of pure mythril, so it is quite valuable..." he stammered.

The Dark Lord lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

"So, according to you, I 'need' this because I am dearly lacking the monetary funds to buy myself such baubles? Is that what you intend to say, Nott?" asked the Dark Lord in a dangerous voice.

The poor Death Eater reddened in embarrassment and shook his head rapidly in denial. I thought it was a bit harsh a reaction from the Dark Lord. The bracelet looked nice enough, after all, even it was relatively useless for someone like him.

"Of course not, my Lord, I merely thought that, with your interest for the ancient times and the origins of magic, you might appreciate this relic..." he stopped explaining when he saw the Dark Lord's still unimpressed facial expression. "I apologise for my thoughtlessness, my Lord. It won't happen again," he said contrite.

"Considering your pitiful performance at the Muggle Surveillance and Containment Department this year, Nott, I had hoped to see more effort on your part to compensate, but clearly, you are as clueless in this as you are at your appointed job. Expect a demotion in the near future, unless you improve considerably this year, that is. You may go now and inspect the depth of your imagination for any bright ideas with the potential to make me change my mind about you," dismissed the Dark Lord. Nott left the room with his head bowed down, ashamed to have been treated so in front of his peers.

Perhaps this setting was to humiliate those who didn't bring gifts extravagant enough? I wasn't very impressed if that was the case, especially if high Ministry appointments relied on this.

The rest of the Death Eaters hesitated for a moment, as if they didn't want to risk presenting their gifts when the Dark Lord was still pissed off.

Suddenly, a young man of about my age stepped forward. He was tall, with dark skin and slanting eyes. He bowed elegantly to the Dark Lord and, surprisingly, saluted me with a respectful nod.

I shot a glance at Marvolo to see his reaction to this. The man looked strangely satisfied and in a better mood than he had seemed before.

"My Lord, I have found this rare treatise in my family library and thought it might interest you," said the young man with admirable composure.

I saw the Dark Lord lift an eyebrow in interest as he looked at the ancient-looking book he had just received. I saw the thirst for knowledge lit up in his eye and knew that the young man had made a good choice of gifts.

"A most admirable gift for your first presence at this ceremony. I must commend you, young Zabini. Will your mother be joining us at the ball tonight?" asked the Dark Lord in a pleased voice.

Zabini, or Blaise, as Draco had told me about his school peer, responded in the affirmative and, after a few pleasantries, left the room with a strong gait full of dignity.

He had probably just gained some of his Master's favour thanks to that book, and a grudging respect from the rest of the Death Eaters as well. Was this event an opportunity for social advancement among the Dark Lord's minions? Was this how new ministers and officials were determined? Depending on the worth of their gifts? That would not be...a very competence-oriented approach. As far as I knew, the Dark Lord liked competent people to occupy strategic positions in his government. I could be wrong, however.

.

The day continued like that. At first, it was fascinating to see the Death Eaters vie for the Dark Lord's approval and try to choose carefully their place in the order of presentation. I had determined at some point that those who were more confident tended to go first because they wanted to impress their peers with their gifts as well. The quality of the gift went quickly down as the Dark Lord's servants passed through and my interest waned, only to pick up at the end when a few of them glared at each other to make the others go before them. They obviously wanted the last spot in this morning's group. As it turned out, they all had taken risks for their gifts and wanted to be sure that their potential humiliation would be known by the less people possible. The last one offered Muggle heads. I was not amused. I barely kept myself from vomiting on the spot. The Dark Lord wasn't either, but for a different reason, of course.

"I assume you took all the precautions necessary to not be spotted and to not leave any trace that could be interpreted as unnatural for them?" he asked in a detached voice. I shot him an incredulous look. That was all he cared about?

The Death Eater assured him that he had been careful.

"Why do you think that such a present would interest me? I dare say that if I wanted Muggle heads as a decoration for my Fortress, the walls would already be plastered with them. Or do you think me too incompetent to fetch some myself?" asked the Dark Lord in a stinging tone before ordering the idiot to leave his sight and take his 'gift' with him.

I could go back to breathing normally as the man exited the room with the rejected gift. I shuddered slightly at the glassy look that the late Muggles had in their eyes.

I fell back on my chair with a relieved sight. The Dark Lord turned to me sharply, smirking slightly and effectually distracting me from my gloomy thoughts.

"Have you discovered the purpose, then?" he asked.

I hesitated, ordering my thoughts on the procedure I had witnessed so far.

"Social advancement through group shaming? Getting better gifts because they want to make sure you won't humiliate them before their peers?" I suggested.

He shook his head.

"Not exactly. You have the other group to observe until you need to give me your final answer," he said, extending a hand over to me and passing it through my hair with a mischievous smile, messing it up even more than it was before. I huffed in annoyance and tried to put it back in a semblance of order.

"I must say, the whole process is more entertaining than usual with you trying to make your guess and studying all of them attentively. You are making some of them nervous with your close scrutiny, did you know?" he asked me, amused.

I lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I am making them nervous? YOU are making them nervous. Why do you react so strongly to bad gifts? It's not as if you really care about what they give you...

-That's part of the purpose you are trying to determine, brat," he interrupted me, smirking.

I rolled my eyes at him, but didn't say anything.

He waved his hand and the doors opened to let the second group filter in. Lucius was in that group, but not Draco. In fact, apart from Zabini, I hadn't seen anybody around my age in his rank. I briefly wondered what Blaise had done to distinguish himself from the rest of his peers. I had never heard Marvolo mention him before.

Lucius started the procedure by offering some priceless old book to the Dark Lord. It seemed like it was the safer avenue to give him books, or magical knowledge of some kind. I wondered why most hadn't found that out from the previous years and given him books this time. I wouldn't be surprised if the Dark Lord had lashed out at those who gave him books last year, just to confound them. As far as I knew, maybe Muggle heads used to be his favourite gift a few years back.

Crouch followed, keeping his eyes scrupulously to the Dark Lord. He hadn't dared to as much as glance at me since my 'status' had been revealed to the rest of the Wizarding World. It suited me just fine, really, but I thought his behaviour was a bit exaggerated. _Or maybe not_, I rectified as I saw the Dark Lord's jaw tighten in annoyance when Crouch's turn arrived.

"My Lord, I have created a new spell that might interest you and offer it you in celebration of your birthday, hoping that it will please you."

The Dark Lord straightened up in his seat in interest. Crouch was the first one to offer a spell of his creation today.

"A demonstration, then, is needed," he declared imperiously.

Crouch shifted slightly, hesitating. I frowned at him. Why was he hesitating to obey the Dark Lord? It never boded well when any oh his minions did so.

"My Lord, it is a very...strong offensive spell, and I don't think that anybody's shields here, except yours and perhaps..." he hesitated again, his eyes sliding to me briefly. "would resist its onslaught," he finished, looking at the Dark Lord again.

I glanced at Marvolo to see what he made of that. He lifted an eyebrow back at me in question. I shrugged at him; curious to see what Crouch's fuss was all about. He nodded in answer.

I lifted myself off my chair and went to stand in front of the rest of the Death Eaters, facing Crouch who took a duelling position.

"Is the purpose of this that I try to dodge it, or that I let it impact on my shield?" I asked Crouch.

"On the shield. You won't be able to dodge it," he said curtly, confidently.

I nodded. I would have to see what his new spell was before I tried to challenged his instructions.

"Do the strongest shield you know, if you can," he recommended me.

I lifted an eyebrow at that. I knew quite a few shields, after all.

I shot a look at the Dark Lord again, remembering my new resolution not to hide my capacities in front of him anymore.

He narrowed his eyes at me, somehow knowing that I'd reveal something important to him.

I didn't mirrored Crouch's duelling position, instead opting to turn sideways, presenting him my left shoulder as if I was expecting something to physically collide with me. I closed my eyes and centered myself, taking a deep breath. When I opened them again, I let my arm trace a circle above the ground around my feet with my wand and then did the same in the air above my head, chanting a long and complicated protection spell below my breath. From my magical sight, I saw a cage of bright white light encase me completely.

It wasn't the type of shield to use in combat because it took too much focus and time to build, but it was the best protection I could use when I essentially only had to stand there and let the spell hit me.

My actions had provoked a wave of hurried whispers among the Death Eaters who probably thought I would use a basic Protego. I wasn't risking it when I might not be able to dodge if the spell was too strong. Crouch, on the under hand, seemed to have let his serious mask slip up and his gaze was now filled with hunger. It disgusted me a bit, especially since the Dark Lord was right there looking at us. I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to punish his minion for his behaviour. I looked at the Dark Lord again. His gaze had turned contemplative and pensive. He didn't seem to have seen Crouch's expression, but you never knew with him.

I turned back to Crouch, nodding at him slightly to tell him that I was ready for his spell and braced myself for the impact. He nodded back, serious again before he channelled and charged his magic in his wand. He made a twisting movement with it resembling a horizontal 8 before slashing up and down again. I frowned at the motion, unfamiliar with its composition.

_Plumborum Ignis! _he incanted in a shout.

My eyes widened in surprise as I saw a volley of small fireballs shoot towards me as fast as Muggle bullets and felt their brutal onslaught as they crashed on my shield noisily. Despite its strength, I felt my magic drain at the impact and struggled to hold it up. I had to physically push against my shield to hold it in place and felt myself be dragged of a few centimeters on the ground. The fire spread on my shield, enclosing me in a burning cage. I would have died instantly if I had just put up a Protego.

Had Crouch tried to kill me? Had he just misjudged the strength of his spell? Was this whole thing a set up? It couldn't be, however, because I was still tied to the Dark Lord's living force for as long as I didn't forfeit the Duel...Did Crouch know that and tried to weaken the Dark Lord through me? No, that would be absurd.

I shook my head to focus on the present. The air was becoming uncomfortably warm in my little prison and the flames didn't look like they would abide soon as they were sustained by the magic of my shield. I couldn't get out without dropping the shield, and I couldn't drop the shield without burning myself...unless I could Apparate out of it. I sought out Lucius with my magic, but he was too far away to reach him. I resigned myself to one tiring forceful Apparition like I had done when I left Malfoy Manor last time. I felt a bit bad for tearing through Lucius' new wards like that, but it was this, or one crispy Harry.

.

I Apparated with a resounding crack and fell painfully against the Dark Lord's throne. I had aimed at my seat next to him, but I guessed it would have been more intelligent to just target the space in front of the seats. As it was, I nearly fell on the man's lap as I was trying to catch my breath. When I looked up after a few painful moments, I noticed how close my face was to his. His brow was frowned in anger and his eyes flashing with a fury probably directed at Crouch, but I could see the underlying concern for me in his expression and I gave him a small reassuring smile before I headed to my seat and let myself crash on it heavily. I closed my eyes when I felt dizziness take over me and listened distractedly to the Dark Lord inveigh against Crouch. The bottom line was that he liked the spell, but not the delivery. He should have chosen a prisoner or a Muggle to try it on, instead of risking to kill me or any other Death Eater he would have taken for the demonstration if I hadn't been there. I wasn't sure I agreed with his conclusion, but I didn't have the energy to contradict him.

After a while, I opened an eye to look around. The room was covered in a layer of sooth and the fire had scorched the walls close to where I had been standing. The sport where I had stood was completely blackened and there was a circular dent in the marble ground where my shield had stood.

Well. That was violent.

I wasn't sure if I really wanted the Dark Lord and his army to use that type of spells. It seemed...too powerful. At least now I understood why the Dark Lord kept Crouch around, even if he was slightly creepy with me. If the man could create such destructive spells, it was obvious why the Dark Lord wanted to keep him close at his side.

The Dark Lord summoned some of his House-Elves to repair the damage. Crouch left the room without really knowing if his gift had been well received or not.

The Dark Lord declared a few moment of break to allow the room to return to its previous state. The Death Eaters left us alone with the Elves.

Marvolo turned to me, concern forming an unusual facial expression for him.

"I was impressed by your shield and your in-wards Apparition," he stated calmly after a moment.

I snorted at him.

"Are you sure you don't mean to say 'Honey, I was so worried for you?'" I teased him.

He looked unimpressed at my joke.

"I would never call you 'Honey'. It would be horribly Muggle and mundane. Not to mention...domestic," he shuddered exaggeratingly.

I laughed at his act.

"Did you think for a moment that I had died in my fire prison?" I asked him, curious.

He shook his head.

"I would have probably be in agony from breaking my Honour's Duel engagement and losing an Horcrux on top of it if that had been the case. I did worry about the state you'd be in, however, because I would have to dance with sycophantic minions tonight if you couldn't accompany me at the reception," he told me with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes at him again. Of course he would never admit to having been worried about me. Dark Lords could rage and be angry and throw temper tantrums as much as they like, but they could never be worried for anybody else's safety than their own. Theoretically. But I knew better.

A sly smirk stretched on my face as I got an idea.

"What if I feel all drained and need my Mummy-soul?" I said sadly, barely keeping the pout that went with my act from showing.

He shook his head at me, unimpressed.

"I wish you wouldn't use that term. It disturbs me," he stated before narrowing his eyes at me. "Do you really feel magically drained?" he asked.

I sighed and nodded in answer. I did feel quite empty and tired, despite my joke.

"I think I would need a power hug like you did last time. Who knows how my sanity will hold on if I continue like that? I am already in a fragile state because we passed so much time away from one another, you know," I added dramatically, laying it thick on purpose.

He exhaled slowly through his nose and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache, but then he spread his arms open in a reluctant and mocking welcome.

I pulled myself up again with exaggerated difficulty and hobbled to his throne before letting myself fall on his lap. He snorted at my act, but rearranged me there, pulling me closer to his chest. I laid my head on his shoulder and made a show of snuggling against him. _Awww, sweet magic and warm flesh..._

"You are a needy brat," he informed me, annoyed.

"I love you too," I answered him in a mockingly sweet voice before the enormity of what I had just said struck me and I stiffened, reddening in embarrassment.

_Oh God. I can't believe I just said that._

I chanced a glance at his face. He had lifted a brow at my answer.

"Er...haha. It was a joke. Haha," I said lamely, turning away from him.

He didn't reply anything.

"Well, I feel all energised now. Time to go back to my seat. Ah, yes, my comfy-looking chair..." I started to say while I got off his lap to head back to my place even if I just wanted to go find a dark corner and die of humiliation. His arms yanked me and I fell back on him. Dammit.

"Now, now, Harry. Why are you leaving so fast when you just arrived here?" I felt the smirk in his smooth voice and I wondered if I could go _Avada Kedavra _myself now.

"Ha. Ha. Why indeed?" I asked rhetorically to give my mind time to come up with a better excuse than 'it was a joke'.

I felt his hands teasingly run up and down my thighs and his breath tickled the skin of my neck.

"I would have thought nothing more of your little quip, Harry, if it hadn't been from your puzzling reaction. Is there something wrong? Something you would like to tell me, my little Horcrux?" he asked in a cajoling tone.

I swallowed nervously. I opened my mouth to give some sort of improvised excuse when someone knocked at the door. I sprung up to my feet and jumped back to my seat as quickly as I could. I had just let myself slump on the back of the chair when Lucius opened the door cautiously and peered inside to ask if everything was alright and if I needed medical attention.

The Dark Lord shot me a glare that meant 'we are not done discussing this' and ordered his Death Eaters back in for another mind-numbing session of gift presentation.

I straightened up marginally on my seat and listened to the introductions again, trying to guess the names of the Death Eaters and what they would give or how the Dark Lord would receive it. Honestly, it looked more like a verification exam for the Death Eaters than a gift session. I wondered if that was not the real purpose behind this whole event. If he forced them to attend, he could probably evaluate them, or maybe Legilimens them while they did their little presentation, and then correct them or punish them accordingly. He probably didn't gather his Death Eaters that often anymore, after all...

.

o0o0o (warning applies to here)

After a few mind-numbing hours of this, I was divided between wanting this eternal ritual to come to an end, and wanting to delay its completion to escape the Dark Lord's scrutiny again.

As the crowd finally started thinning, a big object lying on the ground behind the still awaiting Death Eaters sparked my curiosity. The same awkward moment of determining the order of the last remaining minions passed with a few good ideas and a few horrendous ones as well. In the end, the last Death Eater was standing in the room, his weird cylindrical gift lying behind him before he picked it up magically and placed it horizontally a few paces in front of us. I frowned at it, observing the design on it. It was a carpet. Perhaps it was a magical flying carpet? I had heard of them, but they were still illegal in Britain, as far as I knew it so...what was he doing with it?

"Macnair, explain your gift," ordered the Dark Lord.

Macnair, who was the Head of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures smiled smugly at us.

"My Lord, you see, the Gods of Nature were shining on me today. I was in Diagon Alley, desperately searching for something else than this fine carpet here to give you, when your gift literally fell on me. I am convinced that it is just what you will need. I am sure that you will appreciate my...discretion for waiting until I was the last. You will probably want to go use it as soon as you receive it. I nearly did myself, but I restrained myself because it was to be left untouched for you of course, my Lord," he explained in very vague terms before he started to bow ceremoniously.

I exchanged a glance with the Dark Lord. Already, he didn't like when his minions seemed to assume that he would like something, but this didn't bode well.

"Get on with it, then," ordered the Dark Lord in a cautious tone.

With a flourish, Macnair grabbed the two top corners of the carpet and got up, unrolling the carpet in the same move.

As it rolled out, it became increasingly obvious that something was hidden in its middle.

I should have said someone.

A little girl rolled on the floor as the carpet finished unrolling itself.

From this angle, I would have barely given her ten years of age. Her long blond hair falling down to her waist was the only thing hiding her from our sight. She was naked and soon started shivering on the cold marble floor.

She lifted her head and looked disoriented. She was probably dizzy from the spinning she had been put through and weak from the Sleeping spell under which Macnair had put her. Her clear blue eyes darted in every corner of the room before they settled on us and she shrieked a little when she saw us.

I gaped at her and couldn't process what I saw. I felt my blood freeze and my insides chill. I couldn't stop looking at her in horror. I guessed that some part of me understood what was happening, but not the one in charge of making me move my ass off my cushioned seat.

I distractedly heard Macnair tell us of how he had apprehended the little Veela that morning in Diagon Alley and of how he thought it would be perfect to satisfy his Master's penchant for...young flesh. The comment shook me out of my stupor and anger rose in me. I wasn't a child! But she was! And this was horrible!

I glared at the Dark Lord and he glared back at me, telling me silently that he had nothing to do with this. I shook my head, letting him deal with Macnair while I would take care of the Veela. I blocked him off completely as I focused on the little girl.

She looked so vulnerable huddled on herself, rocking and crying softly on the ground.

I got up and took off my dress robes, approaching her slowly to not scare her. Her crying became stronger when I got closer and she started repeating:

"Non, pitié! Non, je vous en prie, laissez-moi partir! S'il vous plaît!" she pleaded, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. I could only vaguely guess that she was speaking French, but the only words I knew in that language were 'Bonjour' and 'Merci' and neither 'Hello' nor 'Thank you' were applicable in this context.

I hesitated, hovering above her with my robes in hand, not knowing how to proceed. I crouched on the ground next to her and let my robes fall on her slowly.

She flinched violently at the contact of the fabric, but when I let my hands drop back at my side without doing anything more, she peeked an eye out of the safety of her folded arms.

She twitched away from me when she saw how close to her I was. I drew back of a few paces. Before she could do anything else, her attention was caught by the violent screams of Macnair who had fallen on the ground on the other side of the room, convulsing under the Cruciatus. I felt a twinge in my scar at the Dark Lord's annoyance.

I coughed lowly to bring her attention back to me. Her head snapped back to mine and she tightened her grip on my robes which were now covering her.

"Er..." I began brilliantly. "Do you understand English?" I said, articulating slowly just in case.

Her eyes widened at me before she nodded hesitantly.

"What is your name?" I asked again slowly.

She hesitated for a few seconds, throwing a glance at Macnair's twitching form on the ground and the Dark Lord admonishing him, before she turned her attention back at me.

"G-Gabrielle Delacour," she said in a barely audible voice.

"It's a very beautiful name, Gabrielle," I replied, because I really didn't know what I could say to her after that.

"My name is Harry," I added as an after-thought, feeling a bit silly. I gave her my hand to shake, but she recoiled from me. I let it fall back to my lap, not really knowing what to do.

"I won't hurt you, you know. I'm not like that guy who brought you here," I tried to explain.

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because she started hyperventilating at the mention of Macnair. Dammit.

"It must be cold on the ground, would you like to sit somewhere?" I asked her, pointing at the two elevated chairs on the platform. She nodded hesitantly, before starting to get up clumsily.

"Do you need help walking there? Are you hurt anywhere?" I asked belatedly. _It should have been the first thing you asked her, you idiot,_ I berated myself. I had never felt so dumb and inadequate in my life before.

She shook her head negatively, thankfully, and slowly made her way to the chair on which I had sited for the day. She let herself drop in it before tightening my too big robes around her small frame.

Her face was lined with tear tracks and her blond hair was dirty and messy, but she still managed to look like a fragile angel, sitting there in my seat. I kneeled in front of it, to be at her eye-level. She looked at me warily.

"Were you in Britain with someone? Were you visiting someone you knew?"

She nodded once briefly.

I should have asked one question at a time. Now I didn't know which one she answered.

"Can you give me their name? We might be able to go and get them to pick you up..." I suggested.

"Fleur iz my sisteur," she answered in a small voice.

"Fleur Delacour, then?" I asked her, using Gabrielle's last name. She shook her head.

"Fleur Weezy, now," she corrected.

"Ah, she married someone, maybe? A Weez...a Weasley?" I guessed, recognising the name from somewhere.

She nodded again, with a bit more energy now.

"Oui! Bill Weezy iz 'er mari," she answered with a thick accent.

Then it clicked in my head. He was the Wardbreaker who had given me my OWL examination and offered me his contact card for his association. Well, that would come in handy. I extended my hand to call my backpack to me. I had placed it behind my chair for the time of the meeting. I always brought it with me whenever I'd leave to go somewhere. It was a hard habit to break. It snapped in my hand and I smiled apologetically to her when she jumped at the sudden movement.

I got the card out of there after a quick search and read it out loud.

"The Shell Cottage?" I asked her.

She frowned for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"Ok, great, I can go Floo-call her and she'll arrive here in just a few moments. How does that sound?" I asked her, smiling at her a bit. She answered with a small smile and an adorable blush. I felt better now that I knew what to do.

"Ok, great, then I...

-Harry, what have you found out?" interrupted the Dark Lord who had come up to me and left Macnair in a puddle of blood and vomit on one side of the room. I cringed at the sight and moved to block Gabrielle's vision of it.

"Ah, yes, she's called Gabrielle Delacour, she's French and she's here to visit her sister, Fleur, who is Bill Weasley's wife. You know Bill Weasley? He's a Wardbreaker; he's the one who gave me my OWL examination at the Ministry. It just so happens that he left me his card to discuss wards at some point and stuff. So now we can contact him directly and they'll come to pick her up and all. Great, right?" I summed up for him, relieved that it was settled so easily.

The Dark Lord turned to look at her with a frown on his face. Gabrielle's face fell at his frowning and she was now squirming visibly under his scrutiny.

He sighed.

"I'm afraid it's going to be a bit more complicated than that," he told me gravely.

"What! What do you mean? I have their address; I can just contact them. It's simple," I contradicted, twitching nervously for the poor little girl.

He shook his head at me in regret.

"And what do you want to tell them: 'She is at the Minister's Manor as the Head of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures kidnapped her because he needed a gift for the pedophile Leader of Britain?'" he said sarcastically. "I'm afraid this has the potential to be a political catastrophe, and more so since she is both French and a Veela."

"Half-Veela," interrupted a small voice. "But, Monsieur, I promiss I will not tell anyone. Doez that go?" pleaded the girl with the best puppy eyes I had ever seen.

_She's good...but will the Dark Lord be moved by such a show?_ I wondered, looking at the Dark Lord to check his reaction.

An amused smile. Right. Of course. Why did I even think that he could be emotionally manipulated by anyone?

"No need for those theatrics now, Miss Delacour. I assure you, they are quite wasted on me," he said charmingly. "Now, perhaps you could help me with something. Could you be, per chance, the daughter of the French Minister of Foreign Affairs and Ambassador to the ICW? Or how is it in French again, _la Confédération Internationale des sorciers_?" he inquired with that smooth voice of his, making me instantly and quite inappropriately aroused at the sound of him speaking French.

He shot me a smirk; that damned perceptive man had of course noticed my sudden awkward shifting.

"Oui, c'est lui. You kno' 'im, Monsieur?" answered Gabrielle, who was apparently the daughter of the French ambassador for the ICW.

"If I know him? Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting him a few times quite recently, actually. Such a delightfully...frank man."

Somehow, I got the impression that the Dark Lord wanted nothing more than to kill the guy. Hadn't he at some point complained about a French Minister, or something of the kind? It wouldn't surprise me; I had even seen a few maps of France in the war room that detailed potential attack points from Great Britain.

_§ You're not...going to do anything to her, right? § _I asked him in Parseltongue, interrupting his discussion with the girl.

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

_§ Why? Are you worried because she's the sister by alliance of a good friend of yours? Was telling me about that particular friendship part of your new resolution as well, my little snake? §_

I looked to the skies, exasperated.

_§ He isn't even a friend of mine. I told you I only spoke to him once. He just gave me his card as a business contact thing, you know? He just wanted to talk about wards at some point. I forgot about it completely before Gabrielle arrived...I just don't want anything to happen to her. It's bad enough that she was captured and gifted to you as if she was an animal. I wouldn't want her to be hurt. She had nothing to do with your...enmity with France, or with her father, you know... §_ I argued.

_§ Well, she's French, so she's part of the problem, § _he answered in a sadly not-so rare show of racism. § _But you are right, if I take advantage of this situation or make her disappear, it will make me look like a villain. That would be playing in their hands. We shall be her noble rescuers, then. Does that suit your heroic senses better? §_

I rolled my eyes at him.

_§ Yes, Marvolo. As long as she's given back to her sister as soon as possible, §_ I answered, placating.

The Dark Lord crouched down next to me and had a gentle smile for the still frazzled girl. Apparently, she hadn't liked the hissing show and she was back to being leery of us. It was a bit creepy to see him smile so reassuringly. He nearly looked...genuinely nice, instead of suavely and darkly charming like usual.

_I wonder if he'd act like that if he had children at some point... _The thought passed quickly through my head and I locked it away. _By the gods, this isn't the time!_

Gabrielle looked reassured by his calm and gentleness. She probably forgot all about the nice screams of pain she heard in this room. Momentarily, at least. Maybe he added a little covert Calming charm on top of everything. That would certainly explain why she was not in hysterics by now.

"So, Miss Delacour. How about we make a nice little deal so that we can bring you to your sister as quickly as possible, ok?" he asked her in that gentle voice again. _Oh, Merlin, this doesn't bode well._ I thought, cringing when I tried to think of what he could do to ensure her silence.

She frowned at him, her eyes darting for a moment in the direction of the tortured (and potentially dead, I hadn't checked) Macnair, before she met the Dark Lord's gaze again, the picture of an innocent little girl. Oh, that clever and perceptive girl.

"Wat sort of deal iz that, Monsieur? Not too long, I 'ope. I am sure zat my sizteur and my fazer iz very worried fore me..."

Okay, that wasn't the subtlest attempt at manipulation I had ever seen, but still, she was quite good for a kid.

"Well, you see, we both know that the other man was very, very bad. So, I am going to ask for your help in putting him in jail where he belongs, ok?" asked the Dark Lord, expecting a positive answer.

She nodded firmly at his introduction. So far, so good.

"The only thing, though, is that people might think that we are bad as well, since he brought you here to our house. But we haven't done anything bad, have we?" he said, pushing her to agree with him.

She sent another look in the direction of Macnair's passed out form before nodding again.

"And our friend Harry here, he was nice to you, wasn't he?" asked the Dark Lord.

This time, she nodded more easily. _Why was he bringing me into that?_

"And no harm was brought to you in this house at all, no?" he continued.

She shook her head at him. I was impressed by her composure. That must be the result a Calming charm. Or an extraordinary self-control.

"Good! Then you won't mind if I make sure you don't tell everybody lies about what happened in here? I know that you are a sweet girl, and that you would never do such a bad thing, but some people out there might want to make our poor friend Harry look like he was a bad guy. You wouldn't want him to be in trouble, or be forced to say horrible stuff about him, right?"

She frowned at him, before looking at me considerately. I gave her an uncertain smile. Then she looked down at my robes that were still wrapped around her and she looked back up at the Dark Lord, nodding decidedly.

I smiled sadly at the poor little girl who let herself be manipulated like that by the Dark Lord partly for my sake. I knew this was necessary so that the event didn't turn into a political fiasco, however, so I kept my mouth shut, but I was ready to intervene if I thought he took it too far.

I wasn't really gifted in Mind magic, though, so I could only guess that he would put some sort of block preventing her from talking about a few incriminating elements of this scenario, or some sort of compulsion to only say a few key sentences about what happened to her like "the Dark Lord and Harry Potter saved me". It was a bit disgusting of him, really, to manipulate a child like that. And it was perhaps even more of me, to just let him do so. But I knew that Mind Magic had this tendency to work better and painlessly when it was consensual, so I couldn't exactly fault his method.

.

Finally, he ended his procedure and passed his hand through her hair briefly in what could pass for an affectionate movement. Her hair cleaned and righted itself under his hand before he passed it in front of her face and her tear tracks and blotted eyes disappeared. He tapped once on her shoulder and my robes suddenly shrunk and changed into a girl's dress.

"Come," he ordered, getting up and striding away. Gabrielle and I looked at each other, not exactly sure to whom he had spoken. _Probably both of us_, I concluded. I extended a hand to her and she took it cautiously, following my lead out of the room and away from the bad guy who had kidnapped her. The Dark Lord led us to one of Lucius' deserted studies on the ground floor. He opened the Floo connection and presented some Floo powder to me. I took a handful and bent to lift Gabrielle carefully in my arms.

"Alright?" I asked her. She nodded shyly at me before burying her head in my neck. I was surprised that she wasn't more scared of me after all that had happened. Calming charm, again? Or something else, maybe?

"You are to go to that secret place of yours and contact your friend from there. I won't have Lucius' good name implicated in this affair if I can help it. The only story she can tell is that she was kidnapped in Diagon Alley by a pedophile and we happened to pass by and saved her from her tragic fate. Questions?" he asked me.

"Er...what were we doing in Diagon Alley, and why didn't anyone else see us there?" I inquired.

"We were under glamour and had barely entered when we heard her cries coming from a side alley...She won't be able to confirm or deny this, however, so keep as close to the ground story as possible. You can reveal that I tortured her aggressor while you took care of her if that lends credibility to the story," he continued, creating a believable story from the top of his head. I wondered just how much experience he had with covering up stuff like that. It was nearly scary how easy it looked for him to come up with such lies. I could only be glad for it at the moment, so I nodded at him and headed to the fire. I was having enough trouble comprehending what was happening to take charge more than I already had, so I just followed his lead.

"Be back for seven. I still need you for my Ball, remember," he said casually as if he hadn't just dealt with a complex kidnapping-near rape-pedophilia case before dinner.

I frowned a bit at the perceived order, but shrugged mentally before confirming my presence with a nod. To be honest, I really wasn't in the mood for dancing, but then again, I never was anyway. It was just for appearances' sake. And if everything could be settled and Gabrielle back safely to her loving family by then, maybe the chance to unwind might even be appreciated for once.

I should have known that everything wouldn't go so smoothly.

.

* * *

Just to clarify, from Gabrielle's perspective, she was put to sleep when she was walking in Diagon Alley and only woke up on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Nothing more. I can't stand reading, let alone writing anything more disturbing than this already is.

Were you surprised by Crouch's spell? Do you think that he intended to hurt Harry? Do you think that Harry was right when he thought that the gift ceremony was used by the Dark Lord to evaluate his Death Eaters?

Part two will see the Weasley's return in the story.

Thank you in advance for your review ^^


	44. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Yayy! I feel all happy and loved now thanks to all your amazing reviews! Thank you so much everyone! I really appreciate your support! :D

To my guest reviewers, a big thanks and some answers to your questions and comments:

Cherrie-san: Yes, it wasn't a very smart move from Macnair. You have a good point when you say that either Bill or the French Minister might owe one to Voldemort. I have no doubt that the Dark Lord will make sure to exploit it to the maximum if he can, as usual ;)

Charlie0925: Yes, the Death Eaters are rather nasty fellows, in most part. Lucy and Sevy are ok, though, in my books, hehe! :P

lilith: I won't apologise for damaging your social life. To tell you the truth, I feel rather smug about it, mouhouhaha (that was an evil laugh)! I'm also happy to read that you find the plot original. Sometimes I wonder if I haven't strayed too far from canon. You review reassured me! ;)

Boblove321: It's really nice of you to try to assuage my insecurity :) The image of you splurting your drink on your laptop screen will remain in my heart forever, I can tell you ;) Top 4, right? Pray tell, who are my crowned fellows? They are probably already in my favourites, but who knows? :)

skydreamer22: One might argue that Crouch could have tested it and demonstrated it against a duelling dummy...or a prisoner. I know that, in theory, prisoners are already getting punished for their crimes through their sentences, but well, under the Dark Lord's regime, I guess it's pretty expected that they could also serve as guinea pigs. Makes people think twice before committing a crime or going against Voldemort then, right? ;) But yeah, I suppose he gave a fair warning to Harry. It was just surprising to see that Crouch was useful for something else than make the Dark Lord show his possessive side ;)

FanFiction Lover: I think that your 'accent' is getting more pronounced with each review. I can barely understand a word you write. It's upsetting, you know? I want to read the nice things you write to me, but my poor little self can't decipher your message. :( (Yes, I'm making some sad puppy eyes at the moment) I got that you weren't sure who Gabrielle was in relation to the French Minister. Let me clarify it and hopefully, the others that didn't get it will see it as well.

Background info: Wayyy back in the story, our dear Dark Lord was infuriated with a stupid "French Minister" at the ICW that kept dismissing the Muggles as a potential threat and getting in the way of his preventive legislation. Now, you see, in my magical France, a Minister is like a Head of a Department or a Secretary (depending on which country you come from). Gabrielle's father just happens to be the Minister of Foreign Affairs (the equivalent to a Secretary of State), who is also in charge of the French delegation for the ICW. If you're from the US, it's a bit like if John Kerry was also the US ambassador to the United Nations (an office currently held by Susan Rice). I hope this clarifies it ! :)

Summary of the previous chapter: It's the Dark Lord's birthday, and the gift-giving ceremony with the Death Eaters ended with a nasty surprise. Thankfully, Harry had been able to calm down the situation with...minimal damage and is now heading to bring back our little Miss Delacour to Fleur and the Weasley's at the Shell Cottage. It's also time to get an answer to the long-awaited question (and probably forgotten in the meanwhile): What, in the name of Magic, happened to Charlie Weasley?

* * *

Chapter 44: 31st of December 1997, Part two: The Shell Cottage

I Flooed to Grimmauld Place with Gabrielle in my arms. I set her down as soon as we arrived and she looked around cautiously at the darkened reception room before turning to me again. I was suddenly quite glad I had ordered Kreacher to clean the place up a bit. I imagined that the 'Hall of Fame' made of Elves heads wouldn't have helped the situation in the slightest. Just what was it with Dark wizards and decapitation?

While I was pondering over the correlation between magical alignment and taste and just what that meant about my relationship with a Dark Lord, Gabrielle had gone to sit on a nearby couch. Her question shook me out of my pointless evaluation.

"Zat was ze Dark Lord, non? Eet iz a surprise for me zat 'E let me go like zat," she tested out with me. Clever, clever girl. I doubted I was that bright at her age.

I grimaced slightly, not knowing how to present this exactly.

"He...isn't so bad, you know. He doesn't do bad things for the sake of bad things. He just...doesn't really have a conscience like most of us. He does things to make himself and his goals better, but doesn't actively do anything wrong out of nowhere for no reason. At least, that's what I think," I rambled.

She looked at me with furrowed brows. She probably didn't understand what I had said, by the looks of it.

"I tink zat 'E was a lot more gentil because you was zere. I read the journal, you see. I know you are wit 'im. Girls zat I know like zat. zey say you make him more... nice," she offered wisely.

I coughed, a bit embarrassed at the thought of young girls gossiping about my relationship with the Dark Lord. I didn't think that anyone would be in favour of it...let alone think that I had a positive influence on him. If I had, in any case, it wasn't really apparent to me, but I was glad I had been there today to temper him and allow Gabrielle to go back to her sister. That thought put me back on track.

"Right, well, I'll contact Bill now, ok?" I asked her. She nodded, still looking at me thoughtfully.

She was such a weird little girl. I was pretty sure I hadn't been like that at eleven, or whatever age she was. At least, I certainly hadn't been that small.

I threw some Floo Powder in the fireplace and called:

"The Shell Cottage!"

I put my head through when I felt the call connect.

The distraught faces of a group of red-haired people met my eyes. I recognised Bill, who I could see standing in a corner close to a beautiful, but inconsolable blond girl, trying to reassure her. I cleared my throat and ended up coughing on the ash of the fireplace. Well, that got me their attention.

"Harry Potter!" shouted an unknown ginger with glasses, pointing at me.

Everybody gasped at the same time. Well, if this wasn't embarrassing. I didn't have time to deal with this, however.

"Bill, is that Fleur Delacour with you?" I asked him to confirm, just to give me a way to introduce the subject.

"Yes, but, Harry? What are you doing here? How do you know...?" he asked, baffled.

"I've got a pretty distraught little girl at home who says Fleur is her sister. I think she'd like to be with you now," I interrupted him.

They all gaped at me before I saw someone shove their way to the fireplace. I recognised one of the twins that had that joke shop in Diagon Alley. I hadn't made the connection between Bill and them, to be honest. I started to smile at him, but he cut me short:

"What do you want for her?" he asked in a curt voice.

It was my turn to gape. After a moment, I frowned in puzzlement.

"What do you mean by 'for her'?" I asked him, taken aback by his aggressive tone.

The twin's gaze hardened and he replied:

"We know you are with the Dark Lord so, I ask, what do you want in return for her? We don't have a lot of money, but she's family and we will do anything to get her back," he said and his twin appearing from behind him nodded in support.

I felt my face morph in astonishment.

"Well...I admire the sentiment and all, but really, I don't want anything except your permission to pass through to bring her to you."

The twin on the left huffed a dark laugh.

"Ah, yes, is that what you said to your old friends at the Rebel Camp: 'Let me pass through, I only forgot some stuff at my old house?' We won't let you bring the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord to our brother's home," he warned.

I felt stunned, and not a bit hurt. I didn't know the twins that much, to be honest, but they had always held a special place in my mind because they were one of the first people I had met outside of the Camp. I looked around at the faces of the gathered Weasley family. Some of them looked like they supported what the twins had said, while others, like Bill and Fleur, just looked as lost as I felt.

"Look. The wards are pretty tight where I am, and I can't let any of you come here. I just want the permission for Gabrielle and me to pass through. That's two people. Can you let two people pass?" I tried to reason with them.

"If we let two people pass, it will be you and the Dark Lord, that's for sure!" the same twin argued angrily.

"Why would the Dark Lord want anything to do with you anyway? Why would he be so interested in going to your house?" I enquired.

Now, that sounded suspicious. But I wasn't there to interrogate them, nor was it my business to keep the Dark Lord's regime in order. I happened to think that their group for equality was pretty cool now that I remembered it, actually. I wasn't sure about involving myself with it, but it would be perfect for Neville when he got out, in fact. Maybe he could even sound it out for me. I shook my head to get myself back on track and my vision swam slightly. _Wow, am I still a bit dizzy from the earlier magical strain?_

"Never mind, I don't care about that. Gabrielle is anxious to see you again. She's been through a lot. I told her you'd want to see her as soon as possible and it's taking way too much time now, she'll be asking herself questions," I warned them.

I felt bad for using the Dark Lord's 'pacification through emotional manipulation' methods on them, but really, what was wrong with them? Didn't they want Gabrielle back as soon as possible?

Fleur hurried to the fireplace, tears falling from her reddened eyes.

"What do you mean? Someting 'appened to 'er? Waz she 'urt? Is she ok?" she asked desperately.

"Er, ah, er...She's ok now, I think," I answered hesitantly, not knowing what to say.

"Zen what are you waiting for, little boy? Bring 'er to me now! She need me!" shouted Fleur at me, her beautiful face deformed in anguish.

I nodded at her seriously, before looking at Bill, who probably held the wards in the house. He nodded once, indicating that he'd let me pass. I pulled my head back to Grimmauld Place.

Gabrielle was there, crying softly on a nearby sofa.

I approached her slowly, to avoid startling her. I had no idea how to deal with other people's tears.

"Gabrielle?" I asked her.

She shook her head and buried it in her hands.

"Fleur doz not want me now, no? I am...salie," she said in a small voice.

I frowned at the unknown word, but I could address the first part of her reply, at least.

"Of course she wants you back, Gabrielle. You also have many protective big brothers who were all worried about you. It took some time to reassure them that I really had you with me," I replied in the softest voice I could manage, slowly placing a hand on her knee in what I hoped was a comforting manner. She flinched a bit at my touch, so I withdrew it quickly.

"Do you want to go and see them, then? They are right in there. It's just one trip of Floo, and you will be with your sister again, ok?" I suggested.

She nodded minutely before throwing herself in my arms.

"Mon héros," I heard her say in my neck.

I flushed in embarrassment. I really wasn't a hero. I just did what anybody else would have done. And probably more clumsily. At least, she had stopped crying now.

I picked her up and carried her to the Floo, calling out the address and stepping into the fire decidedly.

.

In mid-travel, however, I felt her being torn away from my grip and violently separated. The fire expelled me more roughly than I had ever been and I fell against a wall, hitting my head on the stone.

"Ow! What the heck?" I exclaimed in shock.

Disoriented, I didn't pick up on the people surrounding me before one of them grabbed my jaw and opened my mouth forcefully, shoving a vial to it. Once they had poured something in it, they blocked my nose and my mouth, forcing me to swallow the Potion they had made me drink. Another one grabbed my arms and pushed me down on the floor. I trashed around, my magic swirling widely, but it still too weak from the earlier strain and it couldn't shove my aggressors away. I felt my blood pump loudly in my ears and my vision started to blacken. I thought it would be worse to lose consciousness among them than to drink whatever they had put in my mouth, so I swallowed it reluctantly.

_Veritaserum, oh no...and in much too big quantity. That could be lethal if I don't vomit it up within the next minutes. _

As soon as I swallowed, the hands let go of my face and let me fall forward.

I vaguely hear panicked voices in the background, but couldn't focus on them.

I made a show of coughing as if I hadn't swallowed properly while I contracted my stomach muscles and willed myself to vomit until I finally did with a bit of help from my magic. I heaved on the ground, unable to hold myself up because my hands were now tied in my back. When I finished vomiting, I felt hands lifting me back up against the wall and a bright light blinding me and preventing me from seeing who was in the room with me.

"Why did you throw up?" asked a voice, trying to sound tough.

Despite everything I vomited, I still felt the fog of the Veritaserum try to take over my mind. I tightened my Occlumency shields to counter it. As long as they didn't ask endangering questions, or ask about secrets that I didn't want to share, it was easier to just go along with the effect, however. Trying to resist Veritaserum was akin to trying to paddle upstream in rapids. It was much easier to let the current carry you and move slightly the trajectory to avoid the rocks.

I didn't like the feeling of being carried away with minimal control, however, so I tested out the bindings on my hands to see if I could regain my footing in that direction. I discovered that they were made of conjured rope, which is more vulnerable to erosion by magic. I started to work on it as subtly as I could as I let my mouth speak for me:

"Because I would have died from the amount you initially gave me," I said, letting the potion speak for me. I thought it was obvious why I had to vomit, really.

I heard a slap (which thankfully hadn't been for me) and a hissed admonishment: "I told you not to pour too much of it!"

"It just came out of the vial too fast! And it was too late when I realised it!" defended another voice.

"Get out of here now! I don't even know why B...he sent you with us. We'll deal with it. We are professionals. Go bother G...her!" commanded one. The idiot who had poured too much Potion grumbled and I heard a door slam as he probably exited.

So the remaining people were the 'professionals', here? I wondered if they interrogated a lot of people to qualify themselves as such.

"Who was responsible for the bomb incident at the Ministry?" asked the voice. Why would they want to know that? It had nothing to do with today, right?

"The suspects are the Rebels in general, and Moody in particular," I answered in a droning voice. I felt another information bubble at my lips and let it pass, to see what else I had forgotten.

"The Dark Lord also suspects Muggles, Wizards related to Muggles or with contacts in the Muggle World, or Foreign forces to be conjointly responsible," came out of my mouth. I frowned slightly at the information, but thought it was too widespread to be of any use. It just showed that the Dark Lord had a lot of suspects and was perhaps a bit paranoid.

I hear another slap. It sounded like it hit the back of a head. Apparently, even between 'professionals', they enjoyed hitting each other.

"We are not supposed to ask about that now! Ask about Gabrielle!" the other whispered.

"What did you do to Gabrielle Delacour?" the voice asked after a heavy silence.

The question was vague enough that I was presented with multiple choices of answers.

"I consoled her, determined her identity and brought her back to her family," I answered neutrally.

"Did you touch her?" it growled at me menacingly.

-I..."the Potion was conflicted between the implied meaning of touching and its absolute one. "I took her by the hand to bring her here, I placed a hand on her knee briefly and I put her on my hip to carry her through the Floo twice. I did not touch her inappropriately."

I heard sighs of relief. I was glad I had the opportunity to share that information before they could come to their own conclusions.

"Wait, wait, do you know if anybody touched her?" asked another voice.

"Inappropriately, I suspect that a man named Macnair did. In ordinary touches, I think that there are too many people that could have touched her for me to name them all," I answered in a droning tone, trying to steer away from giving a list that would include the Dark Lord. I frowned at how smartass the reply sounded, but was overall satisfied with the vagueness of my words.

"Macnair, that's a Death Eater! I knew it! Was it the Dark Lord that ordered her kidnapping?

-No," I said categorically, some of the anger I felt bleeding through my voice.

"Hmm, that was a bit short, for an answer. What did the Dark Lord do to Gabrielle?" they dug closer.

I wouldn't let them get the wrong idea of what happened though.

"He talked to her, asked her questions, placed his hand on her head to clean her hair and her face and transfigured my robes into the dress that she was wearing when she arrived here." _Among other things,_ I managed to complete silently in my head.

"Why was she wearing your robes?

"Because I gave them to her," I answered shortly.

"Why did you give them to her?

-Because she wasn't wearing any and I couldn't bare the sight of her naked and trembling form on the cold floor," I said, wincing internally because I gave them details that I would have preferred not to mention. I hadn't managed to keep that information to myself.

At my words, they started to swear angrily and hit things. The light was still blinding me and I had resolved to close my eyes to escape its glare, so I couldn't see what they were doing. At least they didn't take their frustrations out on me.

"Who took off her clothes?" asked a voice, disgust clear in their voice.

"I don't know, but I can only assume it was Macnair.

-Why would he do that?" exclaimed angrily one of them. It was probably a rhetorical question, but the Veritaserum demanded an answer of me.

"He was a pedophile and thought the Dark Lord was one as well. When he saw Gabrielle, he decided to offer her to the Dark Lord, but the Dark Lord isn't a pedophile and punished Macnair for kidnapping her." The words came out in one block and left me exhausted with the effort of controlling slightly my answer. I wanted to regain the upper hand on the Potion, in case a question came out that I really didn't want to answer.

"So the Dark Lord didn't want her, then? He didn't kidnap her?

-No, he neither wanted her nor kidnapped her," I said categorically. I felt nearly happy to get that question out of the way. Or at least, I did before the Veritaserum made me say: "Or so he told me." Dammit, now it sounded as if he had kept his vicious penchant hidden for my sake. I struggled to get a justification out.

"But I don't think he did. He isn't a pedophile, or he wouldn't have..." I started, struggling to keep the rest of the sentence unvoiced. _He wouldn't have hesitated to start something with me because of my age if that were the case,_ I managed to complete in my head. And then, the Veritaserum wanted me to precise that he could have lied about that and that I didn't really know what he was thinking, but the last thing I wanted was to confess my insecurities and worries to my interrogators, so I managed to clench the urge down with difficulty.

There was a silence in which I guessed they evaluated whether to pursue that line of questioning and force me to say everything on the subject, but thankfully, they moved on.

"Did you want her or kidnapped her?

-No, I didn't want her or kidnapped her," I said, thankful for the finality in my voice and the lack of struggle from the Potion.

They sighed and stayed silent for a while. I continued to work on the bindings in the meanwhile. I could probably take out my hands if I needed to now. Baring a few details, their line of questioning was one I would have followed without Veritaserum anyway and, despite their big mess-up with the quantities given at the beginning of our 'interview', they hadn't shown any more aggression toward me than what was warranted in this difficult situation, so I kept myself in place.

"I guess that he was telling the truth about that," commented one.

"Yeah, but how do we know if he's really a good guy?" said the other.

"He hasn't got a Dark Mark," pointed out the first who went to lift my sleeve up.

"Yeah, but he's supposed to be his lover. Shouldn't that count for two Dark Marks, anyway?" questioned the second.

"Hey, have you got a Dark Mark anywhere?" I got asked.

"No," I answered, happy that they hadn't asked whether the Dark Lord had marked me, because then I might have had to talk about my scar. They were getting closer to a more delicate topic for me.

"What do you think of the Dark Lord's regime?" asked one of them.

"I think that it's flawed, prejudiced and unfair to Muggleborns in particular, and to Half-Bloods to a certain extent. I think that it made great progress in other areas. I would prefer if it were a democracy, or even a constitutional monarchy, if the Dark Lord doesn't want to relinquish his position at the top," I explained, volunteering information I wanted to transmit anyway. I thought it was weird that I was suggesting to actually keep the Dark Lord in place. If they had asked the same question a few months before, I certainly wouldn't have said that. Perhaps I had become too accustomed to his presence at the top to imagine it in any other way, or perhaps I had come to the realisation that he was genius enough to actually deserve his title. It might also be that I had seen him work in the past months and had gotten the impression that he was the one really keeping the ball rolling in the Ministry.

"If you'd prefer a democracy, why don't you do anything about it?" That was a good question, and one that made me feel a twinge of guilt in my gut. Didn't I use to have all those plans to make the regime fairer? Would I just let my political aspirations die because I have been exposed as the Dark Lord's lover?"

" I was planning on joining Bill Wealsey's _Equality for All_ group after I obtained my NEWTs," I revealed, surprising myself. Well, I had thought about it for a while, before all these Horcruxes and insanity crises distracted me. It still sounded like a good idea, although I really didn't like my interrogators' methods. I didn't know if they were part of that group at all, however.

"Holy shit! Bill was right?" one asked rhetorically.

"I don't know the answer to this question," I was forced to say. They stayed silent for a while, as if they didn't know where to go from now. Professionals, my ass. I knew more about it than them thanks to nice private session with Moody about it when I was still at the Rebel Camp

"Okay, Okay, I've got one. Are you really the Dark Lord's lover, and if yes, why?

-Yes, and because I want him," I answered, frowning at this line of questioning while struggling to keep myself from sprouting love declarations in this setting. They sounded more like gossips and journalists than interrogators now.

"Ewww! Why would you?" another asked rhetorically, again.

"I find him intelligent, fascinating, charismatic, powerful and handsome. He is a talented lover," I answered honestly and concisely, though I felt like I should be discussing this with tea and crumpets instead of tied in a basement with the taste of Veritaserum and vomit in my mouth.

"Oh Merlin, Fred, quit asking questions about that. The next thing we know, he'll be giving us juicy details of their sex life...No, no, no, don't even think about it!"

I heard the sounds of a scuffle. They were bad interrogators, even with the help of the Potion. At least they weren't violent toward me. I just didn't get the set up with the rope bindings and the blinding light. I didn't know who at left at the beginning, but it wasn't as if I hadn't recognised the twins the second they talked. And George had just confirmed it now when he called the other 'Fred'. They had obviously not planned this well. At least, it confirmed to me that the whole thing with Gabrielle wasn't a horrible set-up to imprison me and deliver me to Moody.

I heard a door open and the twins exit the room. _Is the interrogation over?_

Why didn't they detach me, then? Weren't they satisfied with my answers? I thought them over. I had clearly exonerated the Dark Lord and myself without revealing too much. I was, overall, pleased with my performance of redirecting information. I hadn't have a lot of training at the Rebel Camp in resisting Veritaserum. They had preferred to keep me uninformed than to risk their secrets if I were captured while carrying out my 'Task'.

When the door opened again, a few people entered the room and one gasped in surprise.

"What have you done to him? Are you insane?" shouted the voice I recognised as Bill Weasley. So, the whole interrogation setting wasn't planned then?

One of the twins cleared his throat and I heard a nervous shuffling on the ground.

"We didn't do anything, really. We didn't touch him, except for binding him up," defended one of them. I noticed that they omitted the 'slight' slip up with the Veritaserum dosage. I guessed that it was someone else's fault, in theory.

"Did he protest at your questions? Was he violent?" asked Bill again, in a disbelieving voice. It was a good point, actually. I would have gladly answered most of their questions even without a Potion.

"No, not particularly, but you know we couldn't take any chances. He's trained to be a real killing machine and who knows what the Dark Lord showed him since then," defended the twins.

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. While it was true that I had the capacity for killing people efficiently −and certainly the power to do so− I had never used it on real people...apart from in the Rebel raid when I was under the trance, and even then, I wasn't really sure of what I had done. Maybe the Dark Lord was the one who had killed them? My memories of that night were a bit fuzzy. The only thing I could remember clearly was the Magic coursing through my veins and how I felt like I was connected to everything in the world all of a sudden.

Guilt churned in my stomach when I thought of those who died that day. I didn't even know what had happened to the prisoners, except for Neville. At the basis, I was supposed to be there for their interrogations to make sure that they were treated right, but after the drama with Marvolo, I had mostly forgotten about that part of the agreement. I could only hope that they waited for me to conduct the interrogations and that the captured Rebels were fine in the transition house at the moment. I would ask the Dark Lord about it when I'd be back at the Manor.

While I was thinking, Bill had apparently taken on the task of scolding the twins to submission. I focused back on what was happening when the light blinding me was shut off and I felt him take off my bindings. As soon as I was free, I brought a hand up to wipe my mouth and clean it from its disgusting taste of vomit and Potion with the help of a discreet wandless charm.

A hand took my arm firmly, but not brutally, and steered me toward a chair in the corner of the room. I could still see dark spots tainting my vision. I let myself drop heavily on the chair, my head swimming at my magical strain and the vomiting. I should have left the ropes alone instead of using up what little magic I had recuperated since Crouch's draining spell.

"First off, I want to apologise for the interrogation my brothers put you through. It really wasn't what I had in mind when I asked them to ask you for your version of the story..." Bill said before pausing, looking uncomfortable. "Your story matches with Gabrielle's. I am very grateful...we are all very grateful that you brought her back to us safe and sound. I apologise for my brothers' attitude again. They can't really stand anyone even remotely close to the Dark Lord after what happened to my older brother and my sister," he explained cryptically.

I lifted an eyebrow in puzzlement, wondering if he'd explain that statement.

"Godric, I can't believe you're the Dark Lord's lover. You're the same age as my youngest brother!" he said, disbelieving, before detailing me and frowning.

"How many brothers do you have?" I asked him, because it seemed like he had an endless amount of them. I recalled having seen quite a few redheaded guys when I had Firecalled. Surely, they couldn't all be his brothers, right?

"Five brothers and a sister," he responded automatically, before he flinched. "Sorry, I meant four. The answer is just so ingrained in my mind that I keep forgetting that Charlie isn't there anymore..."

It was the second time he referred to that mysterious dead brother in as many minutes. It sounded like he wanted me to ask him what had happened to him, so I did.

He looked impossibly sadder, turning his head away and closing his eyes: the very picture of grief. I felt a twinge of unease at the upcoming story. I would have heard of it if the Dark Lord had killed someone recently, right?

"Has he...passed away recently?" I asked, trying to infuse my voice with sympathy instead of the worry I really felt.

Bill snorted in self-deprecation before he shook his head slowly.

"No, no, not even. He was killed about ten years ago. You must think that we are pathetic, right? We're stuck on his death without moving on, even after so long..." he answered, before trailing off.

I frowned in thought. Sometimes, I had the impression that I hadn't taken enough time to grieve Sirius and felt guilty because of it. Apparently, those who grieved longer could still feel as bad as I did, but for the opposite reason.

"I guess that there isn't a set amount of time for which you should grieve. It takes the time that it takes, really," I said in pseudo-wisdom, before hesitating. "Maybe though, after so long, you should try to make peace with what happened?" I advised tentatively. It wasn't as if I knew anything of the situation, really.

I was unprepared for the burst of anger that tore through Bill's usual calm.

"How dare you tell me to make peace with his death when his killer is sitting comfortably on a cushy throne, oppressing this society and lording over all of us as if it was his right to be in charge! He is a monster! I know his true side! He isn't the handsome man you know, Harry. It's just a mask! Underneath it all is a snake-faced evil bastard!" he burst out.

I struggled to keep my calm. I hated being shouted at. It made me want to shout back, even when I didn't have any reasons to do so. It wasn't the first time I had heard the Dark Lord described as such. It was one of Sirius' favourite lines, after all. It had just become more personal since then.

"I am aware of his character. I do live with the man, you know," I answered as calmly as I could. "I think that 'monster', however, is a bit of a strong term to describe him. He isn't so bad, really, when you get to know him," I defended my lover, although I knew that Marvolo subdued somewhat his cruel behaviour in my presence most of the time.

Bill looked at me in disbelief.

"Are you going to tell me that a wizard who tears through your wards in the middle of the night, barges in your house, wakes up everyone and tortures my mother and my little sister until my brother reveals that he is part of the Rebellion and then proceeds to kill him in the most excruciating way possible in front of all his family isn't. so. bad?" he asked, outraged. "My sister can't even use her Magic properly now! She barely qualified for Hogwarts and struggles to produce a Lumos! She's still traumatised! From something that happened ten years ago! That's how bad it was!"

I felt my eyes open wide at that. Somehow, it felt different to know that, in theory, your lover was a Dark Lord and did horrible things than to hear someone who had actually witnessed and been affected by some of those atrocities.

"So, he might be all nice and caring with his fuck-toy, Potter," he said, spitting my name out disdainfully. "But it doesn't change that he is a soulless monster, rotten to the core. And the sooner you realise that and get the fuck away from his grasp, the better it will be. For everyone."

If there was one thing I couldn't tolerate, it was people presuming to know better and trying to tell me what to do. I hated self-righteousness because it was rampant among the Rebels. I was tempted to give him a piece of my mind and show him some of famous training he had heard about, but something kept me in place. I just couldn't understand what this guy wanted with me. Why was he working so hard, and working himself up like that to convince me of his opinion? It didn't make any sense. He shouldn't care so much about my decision, even if he had counted on 'The Boy-Who-Lived's dubious prestige'.

So I sat there for a while, looking at him gravely and waiting for the other shoe to drop. After cursing around a lot and passing his hands angrily through his hair, he finally calmed down and sat back in his chair.

He didn't seem very forthcoming in his explanations, however, so I took the initiative.

"Was this the reason you wanted me to come and see you in the first place, then? To convince me that I should take my distance from him?" I asked Bill, trying to get to the bottom of it.

He shook his head.

"When I met you at the Ministry, I didn't even know what was going on with you. I was just hoping you'd give my organisation your support and I knew you would agree with my vision. You did really great on your OWLs, and you have a name to yourself because of what happened when you were a baby, you know," he said, gesticulating vaguely in the direction of my forehead.

I still wasn't convinced.

"You risked a lot, talking to me like that without knowing if I would be receptive to what you were suggesting. I had never even met you before. How did you know that I would agree with you based on how I did in a practical exam and something that happened to me as a baby?" I challenged. At the time, I thought his openness was a bit weird, but now, it was down right suspicious. Where did his knowledge of me come from?

"Well, I mean, you know, it's not just the test. I had heard of you before and knew a bit how you were, you know?" he said, hesitating.

He seemed to have caught on what I was trying to make him say. The fact was that very few people knew of me as I grew up. Of those, most used to live pretty much all the time at the Rebel Camp. A lot of them were dead now. _Perhaps even some by my hand_, I thought, still nauseated by my lack of remorse.

There were a few, though, that could have talked to him. One of them was Moody, but he would never had given me a ringing endorsement. And neither would have Tonks, if I remembered her well. The only one I could think of was Remus. And it felt like someone had gutted me when I realised that I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. For him to sell me to this unknown variable and put me in this position without talking to me about it at all...it felt like a betrayal and I was all too familiar with them.

I was 'this' close to blow off my cauldron. I clenched my teeth, breathed through my nose as slowly as I could while I stared Bill down. I guessed that, the Dark Lord's lover or not, he still needed me for his organisation and that was why he was trying to convince me to step away from Voldemort's sphere of influence.

He didn't understand the relationship dynamic between Marvolo and I if he thought I was with him because he was so nice to me and that I would surely rise in indignation against the Dark Lord if I knew his 'ugly side'. The truth was that we both initially entered our 'arrangement' knowing that we had different political opinions and that we couldn't reconcile them. Even as our relationship started to become more serious, we didn't try to influence the other's political views or make them 'see reason'. Or, rather, the Dark Lord sometimes explained his decision-making process to me and tried to manipulate me to give in on certain issues and I tried to reason my opinions about certain issues with him, but I didn't have any expectation that he would take them into account and change the way he governed. I had barely started to realise that our relationship might not be as fragile as I had thought it initially, I didn't think I could influence him in any other way than by convincing him rationally from time to time, or by negotiating like I did with the Rebels' lives.

So, Bill didn't get my position at all. I wasn't planning on leaving the Dark Lord, unless something happened, or he kicked me out, but that didn't mean that I necessarily wanted to stay in his sphere of influence politically.

However, to be honest, I wasn't sure if I still wanted to be part of Bill's organisation. After all, if I had been any less knowledgeable, and I probably had Snape to thank for that particular piece of information, the carelessness of someone who was probably one of his brothers with the Veritaserum would have cost me my life today. It was as bad as that. If I counted Crouch's spell, I had survived two lethal moves in one day thanks to my magical knowledge. _Third time's a charm, right? _I thought cynically.

I didn't want to report them to the Dark Lord, though, because Remus was apparently part of his organisation, and probably Tonks as well. The fact that I had no business deciding whether a peaceful political group should be shut down was another argument. Ultimately, only one of his brothers had messed up. And I understood the need to interrogate me, even if they could have gone through it differently. I had brought back to their home a little girl who had nearly been molested and violated in the worst of ways. I got the urgency and the anger. It was understandable. But this organisation, with all its bitterness and anti-Dark Lord ideals, felt a bit too much like a rehash of the Rebellion for me to be comfortable with joining it. The only difference I could see at the moment was that Moody wasn't there to push them in the back to take more drastic measures.

With the Rebel Camp down and nobody else to take up the extremist mantel, however, I felt that this movement might be in danger of losing its pacifistic message over time. Perhaps I should put another of the Dark Lord's techniques into application now, if I wanted to avoid that outcome.

I got up slowly from my chair, still staring fixedly at Bill, who immediately started to look nervous at my move. I crossed my arms and looked down on him seriously.

"Bill Weasley," I called, trying to borrow the low tone of absolute authority I had heard Marvolo use a few times with his minions. "As the leader of this organisation, the responsibility of preserving its pacifistic spirit and image lies in your hands. You were right in saying that we share similar goals and values, but I am not convinced that this movement won't turn into another violent Rebellion supporters," I confessed.

I stopped, thinking about my move. If nobody monitored them, we would never know what they were planning. At this point, I didn't think I could count on Remus to report on them for me. Maybe Neville could? But I didn't know if I could trust Neville at all, or whether he'd do that for me. So I couldn't depend on him for that either at this moment.

I relaxed my posture minutely, letting my hands rest of my hips, but without sitting down again.

"However... your organisation as it is at the moment appeals to me. I am not sure to which extent I would like to be implicated, however. For the moment, I would like to assist to a few of your meetings only as an observer. You understand, of course, that it is quite a serious decision to take. I am also not quite sure if my presence there would be safe, considering how I was treated today. Did you know that one of your brothers just gave me a lethal dose of Veritaserum? I don't imagine this particular piece of information would help you worm your way into the heart of our current government, if you catch my drift," I hinted at with a lifted eyebrow.

I drew myself back up, scrutinising Bill. He had started frowning at me at some point during my speech. He probably expected me to be more Gryffindor about it. After the last few months in the company of the fiercest of Slytherins alive, however, blackmailing and playing on other people's emotions came to me slightly more naturally. According to Lucius, what I didn't have in finesse, I compensated for in audacity and adaptability.

"So, what do you want exactly? Just to go to the meetings without endorsing the movement directly?" asked Bill before shrugging confusedly. "That's all I would have wanted you to do in the first place anyway, you know..." he continued hesitantly.

I lifted a hand to interrupt what he was going to say.

"I also want an oath that you will let no harm come to me if I attend these meetings and that I will not be detained against my will, or threatened or blackmailed into doing anything. Right now, I will only ask you to take it, but if any of these things happen, you will be forced to intervene and put a stop to it. Is that clear?" I asked him, all the while thinking that I was pulling a typical Marvolo move with the oath. Perhaps his company had affected my behaviour more than I thought, in the end. After glancing at a clock in the corner that had a guest hand at 'running late, you'd better go', I decided to wrap this up quickly if I wanted to return in time for the Dark Lord's birthday party.

Thankfully, Bill agreed without much delay and swore his oath without trying to 'weasel' his way out of certain clauses (_Draco is a bad influence on my vocabulary_). He did look disgruntled at my methods, however. Maybe it would have gone over more smoothly if I had acted like the Gryffindor I knew I still had in me and had started a shouting match with him. I still wasn't very agile in this political game, however. I blamed the Camp and how isolated I had been, growing up, for my social awkwardness. It was ironic that I had never felt more at ease in my life than in the company of the Darkest and most powerful wizards in Britain's government.

I tried to smooth things over with Bill by shaking his hand and telling him that I might know someone else who would be interested to join in. He appeared worried at first, but then grew more enthusiastic as I talked about Neville to him. I might not trust the latter yet to let him fly solo, but I thought that if I monitored his first contacts with the EFA, I might be able to gradually let him deal with them.

I didn't really know how I would present this whole thing to the Dark Lord, however. I thought of my resolution to be more honest and open with him. I had already half-lied to him that day about Bill. It wasn't going well so far and I really couldn't go to meet-ups here and pretend I wasn't hiding anything. I felt a slight worry gnawing at my stomach at the thought of opening up to Marvolo on my political strategy. It went against my survival instincts to reveal freely such information. I tried to clench it down, but I couldn't help but to feel ill at ease with it. This was one of my back-up plans. I was making myself more vulnerable to him by doing that.

If I wanted him to open up, however, I had to channel some of the Gryffindor in me and I had to dive in first.

My decision taken, I took a steadying breath, bid my farewell to Bill, sent my greetings up to Gabrielle and Disapparated back to Malfoy Manor directly.

.

Already this felt like the longest day of my life. And it was far from over. I still had a serious discussion with a Dark Lord, and a dancing reception, of all things, to go through. I sent a silent plea to Magic and the Gods of Nature to support me through all that separated me from my comfy bed that night. And as much as I was skeptical of Magic's, or of any divine power influencing events directly, in retrospective, it was possible that this thought had saved my life.

.

* * *

Sorry for the little ominous note at the end. I couldn't help it. There is nearly always something bad happening to Harry, doesn't it?

Next chapter is the part 3 of the Dark Lord's birthday! It will also contain a few types of 'action', if you catch my drift, and some major (in my humble opinion) plot development! Yes, and we will also get the answer to Voldie's little deductive challenge, in case 'the mystery of the gift-giving ceremony' is still plaguing you. ;)

Thank you in advance for reviewing! :D


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

So, super long chapter to conclude our favourite Dark Lord's eventful birthday! So far, we have had, a strange gift ceremony with our poor little Gabrielle as Macnair's contribution, a Veritaserum mess-up and interrogation and a political decision about Bill's movement. I thought about splitting this chapter in two, but I decided to be nice and give it all to you! Hopefully, you will thank me by taking the time to let me know what you thought of the new developments! :)

To my guest reviewers:

Boblove321: Orange juice would not be indicated for this chapter, I'm afraid, unless you actively seek to damage your computer ;) I was surprised when I didn't see the Black Bunny in your top 4. Did you not like it?

FanFiction Lover: Thanks you for 'taming' your accent for me. It was much clearer now. ;) I'm ok with you staying on Voldie's side, despite liking the Weasley twins. I prefer to write him than them anyway :P By the by, you might think there are too much political games in this chapter for your taste, but I'm afraid it's quite necessary at this stage of the story. It's a really long chapter, though, so you'll probably find enough other things to compensate. I hope so, anyway ^^

Warning: slash in the first part. Slightly graphic.

* * *

Chapter 45: 31st of December 1997, Part three: Happy New Year

I Apparated back to Malfoy Manor, feeling tired and drained, not at all in the mood for a ball.

I had mostly managed to keep my weariness at bay at the Shell Cottage because I had been in a relatively dangerous situation, but now that I was back in safe territory, I could only think of how much I was longing to just go to bed and forget all about this horrible day.

Despite my cleaning and freshening charms, I still felt a bit sticky, so I headed upstairs to brush my teeth and take a shower before facing the crowd. I didn't know what time it was, but I really needed some time alone to think about what I had learnt that day.

I wasn't sure if I had made the right move in telling Bill that I would go to some of their meetings. It seemed to me that his brothers and he had so much anger and resentment toward the Dark Lord because of what happened to Charlie that their pacifistic message was not very solid and could collapse at any time. I did get where they were coming from, however, as the picture Bill had painted of Charlie's death was uselessly cruel and traumatising. It bothered me that I was not more affected by it, that I was not angry with the Dark Lord for his horrible actions. I thought that, just a few months ago, I would have been. What had changed? Had I changed that much in such a short time?

I put my head on the cool tiles of the shower wall and exhaled slowly, letting the warm water wash away the tension in my muscles.

"Why is it that every time you leave my side for a few hours, you always come back in the middle of an existential crisis?" I heard coming from outside the shower.

"You always know what to say to cheer me up," I answered sarcastically.

The shower door opened suddenly, bringing in cold air that made me shiver despite the warm water pelting on my back.

I straightened up and turned around to look at Marvolo. He had an eyebrow lifted and his ruby-red eyes were sweeping up and down over my body. I swallowed reflectively as desire coursed through my veins and made my cock stir in interest. Because of one look from him. It was pathetic how much I wanted him, how much he aroused me after all these months.

"I thought that on my birthday, you were supposed to try to please me and not the opposite," he pointed out with a satisfied smirk as he completed his examination of my body.

If his thoughts were heading in the same direction as mine, I would be more than happy to do whatever he asked for.

When he vanished his clothes with a wave of his hand and stepped in the shower cubicle with me, I felt a thrill pass through me, but then I remembered that I had things to discuss with him.

I opened my mouth to tell him about it, but he silenced me by gripping my neck firmly, pulling me to him and kissing me hungrily.

All thoughts of a possible rebellion, of Charlie's death and of the disgusting Macnair flew out of my mind when I felt his skilful tongue battle with mine and his hands roam over my body. Within seconds, I was pressed against the cold wall just out of reach of the shower spray. I shivered at the cold and at the hands that settled on my butt cheeks and squeezed them tightly but deliciously.

I brought an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me until his chest was plastered against mine. His mouth detached itself from mine and went to latch on my neck, adding another claim to those he had put there that morning.

I took advantage of my newly freed mouth to speak.

"So, what can I do to please the Supreme Leader of Wizarding Britain on this momentous occasion?" I asked. I wanted my tone to be teasing, but my voice was so rough with my desire for him that it came out as if my reverence was serious.

I felt his mouth stretch in a smirk against my neck. Damn smug bastard. He always did like it when I called him that. It was probably a nice feeling when your prophesied enemy openly recognised your place at the top.

"Hmm, you're all nice and docile for me today, my little Horcrux. Where has your brashness gone?" he whispered in my ear as one of his hands traced over the cleft of my butt slowly and his lips traced my neck enticingly.

Conflict warred in me. I didn't know if he wanted me to act more submissively because it was his birthday, or if he wanted me to make a bold move. I chose the bold move, of course.

I lifted my hands up and placed them against the wall of the shower, calculating the height I would need. I drew runes on the tiles with both hands simultaneously. Marvolo drew back to observe the procedures silently.

When I was done, I pressed my hands on the wall and infused it with magic. The tile deformed and two handles came out of it. It was a variant of a technique I had learnt to help wall climbing. I tested the handles to make sure they could support my weight before I lifted my legs and wrapped them around Marvolo's waist and pulled him to me.

He let himself be brought closer, putting his hands on the wall on both sides of me, never breaking eye contact.

"Still following your new resolution to not hide your skills anymore, I see. Runes and wandless magic. Very interesting. I like how your two hands will be busy supporting your weight. It puts you in a vulnerable position, with all of your weak points open for me. Do you think that you have enough endurance to hold yourself up the entire time?" he asked in a challenging tone.

I smirked at him in answer.

"Come and find out," I dared him.

He lunged forward in a passionate kiss that nearly made me lose my grip, but I held on, attacking him back as best as I could without my arms to help me.

I felt a hand circle around on my butt and spells prepared me, stretching slightly and lubricating. He entered me in one swift move that left me breathless and gasping before setting up a rapid pace. The height of my grips was low enough to allow me to match his movement, but, as I had to always pull myself up marginally, I started to quickly feel the muscles in my arms to strain. I had been too lax in my physical training schedule in the past weeks, that was for sure.

Just like I thought I would be fine because, at the rhythm we were going, it would not last so long, he slowed down to a tantalisingly excruciating pace. I could feel him pushing in me inch by inch until he was completely sheathed, only to pull out slowly, leaving me empty and unsatisfied. By now, my arms were killing me and I had started to shift my weight from one hand to the other alternatively, all the while wishing I hadn't pulled such a ridiculous move to impress him with my creativity. I should have cast a Weightless charm to go with it, at the very least.

When I was about ready to give up and throw in the towel to spare my poor arms, he sped up again and increased the strength behind each of his thrust. The burn I felt from my arm muscles mixed deliciously with the sweetly painful sensation of my prostate being stroked relentlessly.

"Oh fuck...oh shit...oh sweet fucking Magic you're too good," came out of my mouth as I felt the pressure build in me.

Marvolo had a short breathless laugh at my words and picked up his pace again.

My magic felt like it was being sucked in me and held in tightly until I finally found my release. It made the glass shower door shatter. My arms gave out and I tightened my grip around his waist and his shoulders to prevent myself from falling on the ground.

He caught me with a muffled sound of surprise and pressed me tightly against the wall to take some of my weight away. I let my head drop back against the now warm tiles and felt his bend to rest on my shoulder. Sex in the shower was exhausting, I had learnt. Also, the handle thing was a bad idea. I couldn't even contribute much to the actual process because my hands were busy holding me up. I just hoped it had still been enjoyable for him. Ever since we had decided to tighten our Occlumency shields while having sex to prevent the Horcrux from acting up, I couldn't feel him from the bond as well as I used to. It was a shame, but it was the compromise we had found to keep me sane.

.

I was startled out of my thoughts by a chuckle. I looked down at Marvolo, who was emitting the sound while shaking his head in disbelief. When our gaze met, his chuckles turned into a full-blown laughter. I was torn between feeling mortified and amused.

I managed a self-deprecating snort before saying:

"Not the best idea I've had so far, right?"

He calmed down after shooting me a last grin. He looked around us and I followed his gaze, realising for the first time that it hadn't been only the shower door that shattered, but the mirrors as well and the taps seemed to have been blown off, flooding the floor of the bathroom. The shower, which admittedly I forgotten about, was currently spurting water in all directions. I reddened in mortification, especially when I remembered that we were in Lucius' home and not the Fortress.

"Oh fuck," I swore.

"That's what you said earlier as well," pointed out the Dark Lord with a smug smile.

"I don't see what's funny. I destroyed Lucius' guest bathroom!" I exclaimed.

"Do you know, per chance, which room is situated right under this one?" he asked me, ignoring my outburst.

I thought about it for a few seconds.

"Another bathroom? Because of the pipes?" I suggested.

"Yes, but more specifically, it's the powder room for the ladies who came to assist to the ball and, as we are becoming slightly late in our appearance, it seems that a few of them have already arrived and that one in particular was in the powder room when the taps suddenly burst off. She had an involuntary shower, thanks to you," he explained with his large snarky grin.

How was I supposed to face all these people after that?

Mortified didn't even cover how I felt and that man couldn't stop chuckling and laughing at me. Wonderful. Wonderful.

He waved his hand around, making a show of repairing everything with wandless magic. His control in this was ridiculously better than mine.

"Can you focus your hearing on the room below us?" asked the Dark Lord curiously.

I frowned at him in puzzlement. Focus my hearing? Magically, he meant? Like I did with my sight? In theory, it should be possible. You only needed to be able to control the flow of magic in your body and direct it toward your ears. Was that how he knew what was happening downstairs? How far did his senses reach?

I centered myself and listened intently, willing my magic to help me in this task. After a while, I started to get a faint noise. Someone was shrieking, but I could barely hear it. There probably were some Silencing spells around the powder room.

"She...doesn't sound too happy," I remarked nervously.

He snorted.

"It's that Undersecretary from the Games and Sports...Umbridge, I think she's called. Lucius has had several complaints about her already, but, since she covers for Yaxley's...unfortunate gambling habit and makes the department work with half the salary, they kept her in place," he explained with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Wow, you really know everything that happens in the Ministry, right? I thought its management didn't interest you and that you delegated most of the responsibility onto Lucius' shoulders," I commented.

"Hmm, well, I do delegate, but I still have ears everywhere in the Ministry. I want to make sure that everyone is doing his or her job and that nobody is getting too ambitious...

-Oh, wait, Umbridge, is it that toad-like woman who wore a pink frilly dress at the Ministry gala and kept coughing all evening?" I asked, thinking about the ball that had taken place a few days ago but seemed so far away.

"Precisely. And I'll have her fired if she doesn't stop shrieking in the next minute. Efficient or not," he said, getting annoyed at the sound. He must really have sharp hearing.

I looked at him in silence, pondering if I should really argue with him that it wasn't very fair to fire an Undersecretary because I had caused her to be soaked in water at an important gala and ruined her appearance. But then I remembered the look of pure disgust she had sent me when I met her, and I kept quiet. I did not feel even a pinch of guilt in my gut for such a selfish behaviour. Draco would be proud. Remus wouldn't, but he wasn't my favourite person in the world since I learnt of the information he gave about me to Bill's group.

I jolted when I remembered that I wanted to discuss with the Dark Lord about what I had learnt at the Shell Cottage. I followed him out of my suite's bathroom to get dressed, drying myself with a small pulse of magic. I felt a bit woozy as it went over me, however, reminding me that I was still weak magically, and that I had been stupid to use up so much of it for shower sex. One would say that I needed to sort out my priorities, if I continued like that.

"What did you learn, then, at your friends' house this afternoon?" asked Marvolo, who always seemed to follow my thoughts despite my Occlumency shields.

I sat on the bed, trying to determine where to start and how much I should share with him. Then, I remembered my new resolution to try to trust him a bit more, and decided to only leave out Remus' implication and the Veritaserum incident. I doubted that the Dark Lord would refrain from killing all of them if I told him that they had nearly poisoned me by accident, after all.

He listened closely throughout my narration, his face showing no emotion or reaction.

When I was done retelling and sharing my thoughts on the situation, he pursed his lips and looked like he was pondering the question.

"I don't like that you would put yourself in danger to obtain information, but I do agree that you would be in a prime position to know if this group joins the rebellion or starts acting violently against my government..." he trailed off, before snapping his eyes in my direction.

"There is something you wish to ask me," he stated, sure of himself.

I looked at him in surprise.

"Am I so easy to read?" I asked him.

"You are a bad liar in general and absolutely worse at lying by omission. For instance, I know that you kept two major issues out of your narration," he pointed out as if it had been obvious.

Disbelief and amazement warred for the first place in my emotions.

He chuckled smugly at my astonishment. Of course he did.

"Can you read me that well, or is that just the type of things that comes naturally to wizards when they reach a century of age?" I bit at him, annoyed. Why could I not understand him like he could?

He sobered up and looked pissed off. Oups. It was a cheap shot, especially since he disliked being remembered of just how many years separated us. He was weirdly moral like that sometimes. Or maybe he just didn't like to be reminded of his age.

I sighed, scooting closer to him on the edge of the bed until our legs touched. The small contact made my scar tingle slightly, bringing a small smile to my face despite the serious discussion.

"I'm sorry. You're not old. I just have the impression that you know me much better than I know you and it frustrates me," I confessed honestly.

He cocked his head slightly to the side to look at me, before he turned back to the front and exhaled wearily.

"Well, I did turn 71 today and you are only 17 years of age," he stated. My measly 17 looked pathetic when put next to his age. "I am not an easy person to understand either. Most just call me a monster and stop their judgment there. You recognise that there is more to my behaviour and character than 'evilness' and seek to understand the underlying motivation behind my actions. While it is a commendable approach, it is not an easy one to uphold in the long run. Sometimes I wonder what it will take for your inner Gryffindor to emerge and revolt against me, or which heinous act will be too much for you to bear my presence or my touch anymore..." he trailed off dramatically.

He sounded wistful. It was out of character enough to make me question the sincerity of his words, but it sounded as if he was worried that I would leave him. Me! It was absurd.

Perhaps he had driven away like that someone he loved before? It was more likely that this was a form of reverse psychology to make sure I wouldn't fight against him. If I was going to assist to the EFA's meetings, it would create a window of opportunity for plotting against him, after all. Maybe he knew that I wouldn't accept an outright refusal of my participation and was trying to guilt me into not going?

His words made me think of something I wanted to ask him.

"What happened with Charlie Weasley?" I asked.

He frowned thoughtfully and looked slightly annoyed that I hadn't commented on his performance.

"Which one is that?" he asked dismissively. Well, there were a lot of them, I'd give him that.

"The one you tortured and butchered in front of his family, apparently," I replied flatly. It was the first time I saw him forget something important like that.

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

"I don't remember killing any redheads recently. Was he at the Rebel Camp?

-It wasn't recent. Apparently, it happened some ten years ago. I don't know when exactly," I replied, puzzled. It must really have been a trivial kill for him if he didn't remember it. It was striking how much he had marked that family for the worse and couldn't even remember doing it.

"Bill said that you tortured his mother and little sister to make Charlie confess that he was a Rebel," I pushed, trying but failing at keeping the accusation out of my tone. I didn't like it at all, but I didn't know the circumstances surrounding the events either, so a judgment either way would be too hasty. _No that he would care if I disapproved_, I thought with furrowed brows.

The Dark Lord rubbed his chin pensively.

"It was probably during the purges I did after my Victory. There were too many for me to remember them all at the drop of a hat. With that said, it is interesting to observe the repercussions those sorts of things have years later on the political game. Do go on," he requested, seemingly only animated by his thirst for knowledge and his study of human behaviour.

I cringed at his carelessness even if I had a similar reflection earlier.

"It did have a huge impact on all their lives, you know," I pointed out. "The little girl you tortured, for instance, they thought she'd never be able to go to Hogwarts because you made her magically unstable. Bill said it was a miracle that she got better in time and that she's still living with the consequences of that day. They are all pretty set against you and your government.

-I understand why you say that their pacifism might collapse imminently, then," he agreed, without giving a hint of remorse.

I sighed and dropped the subject. It wasn't as if I could make him care or as if he could fix anything now. What was done was done. I didn't have any weight on the past. I could only hope that I might be able to prevent something like that from happening again.

I searched my thoughts for something I had missed. When I was gone, it felt like I had so many things to ask him, but now that he was here, nothing came to my mind.

"Hey, you never said what was the purpose of today's ceremony in the end?" I reminded him. It was the first question I remembered and I asked him before realising that I had essentially dismissed the subject of him torturing and killing his opposition to ask him about birthday gifts. _Way to go, Harry, and you have no reason to be worried about your mental state, right?_ I thought self-deprecatingly.

"You always want to change the order of things, don't you, Harry? You have to give me your guess first, if you want the prize in the end," teased the Dark Lord as if he was dangling a carrot just out of my reach to make me move forward.

I pondered my answer for a short while, but it was enough time to cause him to get up from the bed and pace a few meters away, lost in his own thoughts.

"It's an evaluation process for your Death Eaters? Depending on their performance today, they either gain or lose your favour, and with it, important appointments?" I ventured, quite sure that this was a part of it.

The Dark Lord only lifted an eyebrow at me from his spot near the door.

"Do you really think I would put incompetents in charge of important departments in the Ministry because they are good at guessing whatever I will like every year?" he asked, as if challenging me to say yes.

I held back, for once. I knew he was competence-oriented and forgot to take it into account in my answer. I pondered the usefulness of the gift ceremony for a while longer, but could still only see the evaluative side of it. What else could there be?

In a flash, I thought of his difficulty with trusting people and his paranoia. I made my second guess.

"Are you...taking advantage of having them there to check if any have plans to betray you or are wavering in their loyalties?" I asked, quite sure I wouldn't get his 'mysterious prize' because I had failed to guess it on the first try anyway.

"Both of your guesses are partly true. Why not use the opportunity to test my servants and allow them a change for social advancement when I am forcing them to attend anyway? It gives a broader specter of usefulness to the ceremony and most would conclude to this purpose when they seek to understand why I bother with it at all. However, neither are the primary reason why I do this," he said, stalking back until he was standing really close to me. He lifted a hand and slid a finger along my cheek, making my magic rise to the contact and swim up to my head. I had never stood a chance of resisting this man's lure, had I even bothered to try. Not when my Magic was nearly begging me to get closer to him.

A flash of the Dark Mark came to my mind, and I wondered at the mechanics surrounding the spell. I knew that it included some version of the Protean charm, but the rest was mystery for me. Perhaps Lucius would let me study his if I asked.

If my Magic reacted that strongly to the Dark Lord's, was it partly the same for those he Marked? Did it drew them to him, prevented them from betraying him, or did it transmit information to him?

"What does the Dark Mark do?" slipped out of my mouth as I pondered the question, my brows furrowed. He shot me a wide smirk and reached up to caress the scar that was etched on my forehead. I had to bite my lip to stop a groan from escaping my mouth as a tide of pleasure rose in me.

I controlled my breathing with difficulty and got out:

"If you can really send that kind of feelings through the Dark Mark, you should advertise it. Everybody will sign up to become your minions just to get that buzz," I commented.

He withdrew his hand from my head and let it fall at his side again. I should have kept my mouth shut. As distracting as the feeling had been, I wasn't ready to part with it yet.

"Fealty bonds," he said, all of a sudden.

"What?" I asked, disoriented.

"You won't get your prize because you didn't guess it right, but I suppose I could tell you the purpose behind the day's ceremony," he explained nonchalantly.

"And that...fealty bonds? You...the Death Eaters are...your subjects? You want to be like a medieval king?"

Marvolo made a dismissive move.

"A King is born in royalty. I had to rekindle my right to Lordship from the ashes of my bloodline. No, I prefer the term…Emperor," he said triumphantly.

I barely held in the snort of derision at his pompous tone.

He seemed to have sensed it, because I felt his magic swell in anger and seek retribution at the perceived slight. He narrowed his eyes at me, probably to decide if I had intended to mock him. After a while, he seemed satisfied by something, because he released a slow breath and his Magic calmed down. I wondered when my 'insolence' would become too much for him to deal with. It was a wonder he hadn't snapped once and shot a curse at me yet. Not that I would stay with him if he did. I liked to think I would have the strength to leave him if our relationship ever became abusive, or that I would fight back, at the very least. If anything, I could always count on my combative nature.

"So...you were talking about an Empire?" I asked to make amends, even if I still thought it was a bit ridiculous.

"Your ginger friends of today were right on one aspect," he commented, making me cringe slightly at the term of endearment to designate people that had nearly killed me a few hours ago. I still didn't know who poured that Veritaserum, in any case. The twins had sent him away from the room before I could identify him.

"What did they have right? That your regime is corrupted and you have too much power?" I shot back at him, not able to keep the accusation from my voice despite my initial intentions.

"Interesting, you omitted that detail in your earlier recounting. But that makes a second thing that they understood, then. I suspect the latter comment to be your personal addition to the discussion, dear Harry, so I won't comment on it," he said sarcastically.

I huffed a breath in amusement, defusing some of the tension in the room. Of course the Weasleys did not dare to tell me what they thought of the Dark Lord's place in the current regime. Just the fact that they were striving for democracy hinted at what I had said, however.

Since I didn't offer any answer to his barb, he continued.

"You see, they were right because they realised that the current state of this regime isn't permanent. They sensed that there was a potential for growth and evolution in the situation. A potential that I, naturally, nurtured in the last years," he exposed, going back to his pacing and waving his hands around emphatically. I frowned at him but felt fascinated by what he was saying despite myself.

"The second thing that they had right is that the current regime is corrupted. Indeed, despite my best intentions, it remained that way. After a few years of firing incompetent Ministry workers and taking down obsolete positions that only weighted down the bureaucracy, I soon realised that trying to heal a bad regime was akin to cutting off the head of a Hydra. Other heads will grow to take its place. For every efficient Ministry worker you will employ, two others will slacken off to compensate. No, no," he continued with abrupt movements. "When a system is rotten to the core, the only way for a government to improve is to reinvent itself completely...and let's just say that I am giving it a push in the right direction," he completed with a smirk. Apparently, exposing his 'evil plan' to me had brought back his good mood. I wondered if I just got a preliminary version of a speech he would make to his Death Eaters soon.

"So...how are you going to change your regime, then?" I asked, not daring to hope he'd say that he wanted something more democratic.

"I am going to tear down the archaic Ministry institution and put back in place only the essential bodies and the efficient workers. I want competent, driven, ambitious and intelligent workers. My new government will be composed only of the best Wizards, Witches and Creatures out there. There will be no distinction of blood status, age, gender or race. Only pure merit...provided that they fulfill a few criteria that will exclude those who are not loyal to me and the regime, of course. Working there will be an honour, not a middle-class, conservative prospective that offer good pension plans," he said with disdain. I didn't know what pension plans were, but with his expression, I guessed they were a Muggle concept.

"People will panic if you take down the Ministry all of a sudden," I pointed out.

The Dark Lord huffed a derisive laugh.

"Of course, they would, if they realised it was happening," he answered with a smirk.

I frowned at him, trying to determine what he was planning. How could he fire everybody without them noticing? Would he start a second Ministry in parallel and make the second take over gradually? How would that work?

"And, to answer your question, today's ceremony was indeed primarily evaluative. However, the evaluation was not based on the gifts they gave me, but on a variety of factors that shall remain my own," he said, shooting me a pointed look to prevent me from asking questions. "The end process is a portrayal of who I should keep and who I should put in which office in my renewed government and in my inner circle. It's also a gradation, a more intricate ranking than the original inner-outer circles. At the end of the War, some fifteen years ago, I granted important jobs to those who had supported me as my loyal Death Eaters. But in my new government, there will be no nepotism. Only the best will remain. It will be...a pure meritocracy like mankind has only longed to accomplish over the course of History," he exposed passionately.

Meritocracy...the government of the deserving. How would he determine who were the best, though? He had talked about a ranking within his Death Eaters, but what about the rest?

I was lost in my thoughts, weighting the pros and cons of the Dark Lord's solution, when I suddenly saw him turn toward the door and open it with a wave of his hand. On the other side was Lucius, who was standing with a hand poised to knock. He didn't seem too surprised to see the door open before he knocked. He must be used to it after years in the company of the Dark Lord.

His gaze took in my place at the foot of the bed and his Master barely a foot away standing in front of me facing the door. I silently thanked the gods that we were dressed and dry. I would have been quite embarrassed if he had interrupted something. In his house. In his guestrooms. Or if he'd seen the state of the bathroom before Marvolo repaired it...

Lucius cleared his throat.

"It seemed that we had a few...problems with the plumbing, but now that they are fixed, the guests are starting to become impatient," he said, telling us not so subtly to get moving.

I felt a spike of anger coming from the Dark Lord and snapped my head in his direction just in time to see him shoot a silent curse at Lucius.

The esteemed Minister fell to the ground, clenching his jaw and hands in pain, his long blond hair brushing the floor as he shook under the onslaught of the spell.

I sat frozen on the bed, looking in morbid fascination at the Dark Lord radiating dangerous energy and slowly stepping closer to Lucius.

He extended his hand, palm up. He pointed his index at his Minister before curling it in a lazy move. His magic picked up Lucius and made the man hover a few inches above the ground in front of the Dark Lord.

"Did I hear you tell me that I was late for my own birthday gala, Lucius?" he said in that low caressing voice of his. Below the velvet, however, there was a sharp tone of reprimand and anger that made the proud Minister flinch and shake his head in denial.

"O, of course not, my Lord. I would never presume..." he stuttered.

"Spare me your platitudes, Lucius. I have been too lenient with you in the past few years. You let it go to your head," declared the Dark Lord before releasing his hold on Lucius and sending him crash noisily on the ground.

He strolled out of the room, not looking at his Minister who was lying down trying to catch his breath. On the threshold, he turned back to me. I couldn't stop looking at Lucius. It had been so easy to take down and humiliate such a respected man. The power the Dark Lord held over his servants was absolute. How many of them stayed with him because they followed his ideals and how many because they feared him?

The Dark Lord's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Have I stirred the noble Gryffindor in you yet, Harry?" he asked, probably referring to how he thought I would be disgusted by his actions one day and leave him. To be honest, I was more disgusted by my indifference to what had happened. I liked and respected Lucius! Why wasn't I more shocked to see him debased so ? It didn't make any sense!

"Hmm...no, but you can go ahead without waiting for me. I'll join you in a second, ok?" I replied hesitantly, second-guessing my choice of words as soon as I uttered them. If Lucius' comment had been disrespectful, mine probably always were. Why had he never lashed out at me? Was it because I was his lover? Because I had a special status as his 'equal' or because he knew that I wouldn't let myself be treated like that?

The Dark Lord studied me for a few seconds before he pivoted and left the threshold in the direction of the ballroom.

I frowned at Lucius, who strangely hadn't picked himself up yet. I went to his side.

"Do you need anything, Lucius? A Pain-Relieving Potion, maybe?" I asked the man I considered as a sort of father figure.

Lucius huffed a breath in answer. It must have been a powerful spell to affect him like that.

"In the bathroom, behind the mirror. Blue potion," was the reply I got after a short moment.

I went to retrieve the potion and gave it to him. Lucius downed it with a grimace of disgust.

"He was proving a point between you two," announced Lucius who seemed to have returned to his characteristic normal poise with the help of the potion. He got up, dusted himself off and rearranged his clothing with a twirl of his wand as if nothing untoward had happened to him.

I pondered what he had said. The only point I could see in there was that he gave me more leeway than anybody else, but that he didn't like to be disrespected by anyone.

"So...he doesn't react like that with his Death Eaters all the time then?" I asked him; I was uncertain of what happened when I wasn't there.

Lucius shook his head slightly.

"Before his resurrection, perhaps, but not anymore. He isn't putting up a front for you, Harry. Or, at least, as far as I know," he commented. "With that said, however, it would be wise not to make him wait too much tonight. He seems slightly irritated."

I nodded and followed him out of my guest rooms. If that was irritated, I wondered how a pissed off Dark Lord would be like. I wasn't sure I really wanted to witness that anytime soon, though.

"Is everything still alright with you, Harry?" he asked in a low voice, darting his eyes about cautiously. I thought he was probably asking about my relationship with the Dark Lord, so I just shrugged.

"Well, there are ups and downs, but I'm still here, right?" I answered vaguely, not wanting to explain what had caused the tension between us in the last few days.

Lucius nodded seriously once and together we headed to the ballroom.

.

We had barely reached the doors that we heard a harpy shrieking in a shrill voice that resonated sharply in the marble corridors.

The Dark Lord was standing with his back turned to us, talking with Crouch and...a very wet, very outraged Umbridge. Marvolo was pinching his nose in annoyance and I could practically hear him say that he shouldn't have to deal with things like that and that keeping the image of a charismatic leader was too taxing to be worth it. I wondered if he wouldn't shed that persona when his new government would be in place. I wasn't sure what to think of what he had revealed me, because, apart from saying that it would be more efficient, he had not been very clear on the chances he would put in place.

Crouch was trying to keep Umbridge off the Dark Lord and steer her away, but she kept creeping closer to Marvolo and recounting her sob story. Lucius had stiffened at my side when he saw Crouch there. I had learnt recently that there was a weird rivalry between the two of them for the seat of Minister. I guessed that, with his recent punishment, Lucius felt that his position was more threatened than usual because usually, he wasn't so obvious with his annoyance.

I went up at the Dark Lord's side and sent him a supportive smile when he glanced at me. I could feel the irritation oozing from him, so I placed a calming hand on his arm. He looked at the ceiling in irritation and sent a barely perceptible quirk of his lips back at me. A high-pitched cough interrupted us.

"Ahem, ahem. Your Supreme and Magnificent Grace, I was attacked in the home of the Minister of Magic himself! We must find the culprit immediately! I'm afraid it is of prime importance!" said a shrill voice that made me suppress a shudder of disgust.

"Are you suggesting that my Minister's home is lax in security?" asked Marvolo neutrally.

"My Lord, I am merely saying that when one hosts a gala, especially one as important as to have the honour to receive you, one should always be especially careful and doubly so when there has already been a case of infiltration in the home in question," she answered pompously.

"Do you think I need help to protect myself, Miss Umbridge?" said the Dark Lord in a deceptively calm voice.

The toad lookalike bowed down repeatedly and spluttered polite denials coated with simpering compliments. She must have had some sort of political savvy to climb up to the level of Undersecretary, but she was obviously not used to deal with the Dark Lord himself as she couldn't have done anything more to irritate him than what she was currently doing.

"Miss Umbridge, I do not care what you thought happened to you or how dangerous you think this gala is. I find your presence extremely distasteful at the moment. You would do well to head back home and nurse your wounded pride if you want to keep your spot in my Ministry," he said in a dismissive voice before sweeping off.

Umbridge paled dramatically. I failed to keep to little satisfied smirk off my face. Her head snapped toward me and her mouth twisted in the same disgusted sneer she had when we met before.

"Demented twisted little boy, you bewitched him, haven't you?" she snarled at me in a low voice.

My temper flared and I clenched my fists as tightly as possible to keep from hitting her. Something about her rubbed me in the wrong way. Just the fact that she hadn't even cast a drying charm to keep evidence of the 'crime' and immediately went whining to the highest authority she could find made me match her disgusted facial expression with one of my own. That she had the gall of saying that I couldn't be with the Dark Lord realistically struck a delicate cord inside me because it really wasn't clear to me why Marvolo was putting up with a teenage boy like I was.

The only thing that stopped me from blasting her off was the allusion to the fact that I was 'demented'. Could she be referring to my 'episodes'? How did she know about that? Nobody except the Dark Lord, and the Malfoys, to a certain extent, had witnessed any of it. I realised in that moment that it would be quite easy for any of them to discredit me and any attempt at being politically independent from the Dark Lord if news of my weird instability came out. Could any of them have leaked knowledge of that?

Outwardly, I kept on what I hoped was a calm mask and only lifted an eyebrow in answer to her accusation.

"So, you think I would be strong enough to bewitch the Dark Lord himself? I don't know whether I should feel flattered or insulted on his behalf," I stated. Lucius and Crouch, who had been discussing a few steps away from us, turned around at what I said.

"I will see you out of my house, Miss Umbridge. Follow me," ordered Lucius coldly. She shot me a last disdainful look, spun around and nearly tripped on her wet shoes, but she straightened up and scuttered after Lucius, leaving me alone with Crouch.

I hadn't talked to him alone since I knew of his interest and I still felt a bit awkward in that situation, so I monitored his movements closely. When he lifted a hand and went to place it on my shoulder, I took a step back and watched him warily.

He withdrew his hand and gave me a weird smile.

"You know, I won't attack you. I just wanted to apologise for earlier," he revealed in what he probably thought was a reassuring voice. To me, it only sounded creepy. Like he was trying to appear nice when he didn't even know what kindness was.

I frowned in thought at what he had said. Earlier? Ah, yes, the new spell that nearly killed me and left me drained and vulnerable in a threatening situation. Great. Good thing just being in the Dark Lord presence had this tendency to boost up my energy levels. So, the Locket fed off my energy and I fed off his? It was a weird, twisted situation. At least I had innate Magic so I wasn't completely leeching off him like the Locket was forced to do. I shuddered at the concept.

"I should have demonstrated it on of the Rebel prisoners, I know. It was careless of me," he continued, misinterpreting my shiver of dread.

Well, that snapped me off my thoughtful mood.

"Ah, you mean, those who surrendered and are under my protection?" I asked testily.

He spluttered and mumbled a denial, apologised again and left suddenly. I traced his progress down the hall with narrowed eyes.

What the hell was happening today? Was it the 'everyone will mess up' day?

I hurried to the ballroom. The day could not be over too soon.

.

When I entered, I immediately spotted the Dark Lord conversing with adoring sycophantic fans. Daughters and sons of rich influential Purebloods, most probably, or they wouldn't have been let in. It was plainly ridiculous how tightly the bodice of the dresses were wrapped around the girls and how much make up they had on. What made me sneer in disgust, however, was that I spotted a few of them that looked like me among those babbling and giggling around him. Or, well, some particularly were horribly coiffed dark haired ridiculously young boys. They had probably taken Shrinking potion or some sort of Deaging potion-turned-wrong. I didn't know whether I should be angry or amused at that sight. I settled for vaguely nauseated as I made my way to Marvolo, all the while observing his reactions to my little clones turning around him.

He seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. Of course, to most who didn't know him as much as I did, he had a perfect composure and maybe only looked a bit too indifferent, but to me it was quite obvious. He shot me an amused glance when I got closer and I responded in kind, as small smile escaping my poker face.

When I reached him, only a barrier made of the vapid girls and the other wannabe's separated us. That's when I realised just how short the boys were. I was at least a head taller than them. It was frustrating, really. It meant that everybody thought I was as tall as the average girl, when I really wasn't! I was a very respectable height for a still-growing man. It wasn't my fault if the Dark Lord was so freakishly tall that it emphasised the age difference between us even more. I could only guess what people imagined about our sex life. They probably thought I was cross-dressing in little girls' dresses and calling him 'Daddy'.

I shuddered mentally at the thought and coughed pointedly to get the attention of the annoying fans. The closest to me turned around, but most only shot me a look before dismissing my presence entirely and turning back to Marvolo. I saw a teen who had somehow managed to have made his green eyes flash weirdly. Ok, that was creepy. Was that supposed to represent my magical sight? They apparently didn't want to let me pass.

Frustration bubbled in me. I was the real lover! I had the right to be at his side! This was getting ridiculous. The Dark Lord was probably only letting them be so close around him because it was annoying me, if the small smirk he was currently sporting was anything to go by. Well, I wasn't going to let those idiotic kids get the better of me and stop me from reaching his side.

I joined my hands in front of me like in a prayer, channelled some magic and slowly separated my hands. As the space between them grew, the annoying brats were pushed to the side with some panicking shrieks, opening a corridor for me to pass. I kept my hands spread to keep them at bay and walked up to the Dark Lord who now had a hungry glint in his gaze at my display of magical strength, despite our earlier activities. I lifted an eyebrow at him, acting as if I didn't know what he was thinking, before I turned back to shoot one glare at the little idiots. They all flinched and some of them squeaked in terror. I then realised that most of the boys were in fact girls who was gone through Merlin only knew how many procedures to look as much like me as possible. I didn't know whether to be flattered or disturbed. I settled for disturbed.

"Another nice little trick of yours, I see. You are still full of surprises, my little lover," said the Dark Lord in a low voice that caressed my ear and made all the hair on my body stand up as I supressed a shiver of desire. Gods, how I wanted him. How long had it been already? Not even an hour? It was ridiculous.

"How long do you want to stay at your party?" I asked, even if I knew that it made me sound desperate. I guess I was, in a way.

He barked a loud laugh and smirked knowingly at me. That laugh was going to be in the newspaper tomorrow, I knew. And so was his left hand slowly rising, brushing at my neck and burying itself in my hair as he drew closer to my ear.

"Now, now, Harry. Impatient, are we? It would be remiss of me to leave my birthday party so soon, wouldn't it? After all the effort Lucius went through to organise it. I at least have to make a round and greet the illustrious guests. Do you see there, in the corner?" he said, darting a glance to my left. I followed it and saw a richly dressed wizard talking loudly and laughing. "That's Monsieur Delacour, the esteemed French Minister of Foreign Affairs...

- Gabrielle's father?" I asked, recognising the name. "What is he doing here? Does he know about what happened?" I whispered urgently. Marvolo didn't answer. He only took my hand and brought me to the dance floor, steering me into now familiar steps. I was puzzled at why he was doing so before he brought us closer again, still under the pretence of dancing.

"I don't know if this was part of a plan, but if it is the case, I know one little girl who will sorely miss her Papa after tonight," he hissed in my ear.

I tried to keep the surprise I felt off my face. I wasn't used to hear him sound so furious, but I knew that he didn't like to be played and manipulated.

"I don't think Gabrielle was part of a plan. Fleur was crying so badly and all the Weasleys were shaken by her disappearance. They couldn't have participated in a plan like this. Do you really think he'd make his own daughter go through something like that? I mean, if Macnair had kept her, or if you had been...receptive to her charms...it would have been horrible for her. It was already horrible," I amended.

"Perhaps nobody else but him and a few select members of his entourage knew of it. It would be a perfect pretext to tarnish my reputation in the eyes of the French population," he pointed out, stopping momentarily to make me twirl around once. "Wars were started for less than that," he completed after he pulled me back to him. Good thing I knew this dance well by now, because I couldn't pay much attention to what I was doing.

"Why would the French want to start a war? And why now?" I asked.

"Ever since you passed your OWLs, there have been rumours of your return in Wizarding society. They were confirmed at the same time as the news of the Rebel Camp's destruction. If the French were satisfied to just let the inner tensions settle the conflict and take me down before, chances are that, now that my opposition is nearly null, they are no longer happy with letting things goes without intervening.

-Shit! You think they're gonna start a war with you? It's crazy! Don't they know how powerful you are?" I urged seriously.

The Dark Lord had a smug smile at my comment and spun us around grandiosely.

"They should know, in theory, but they think that they can surprise me. Believe me, the only reason I haven't attacked their snobbish backward little country yet is because I think Muggles are a more dangerous threat than them. I don't want to split my forces in half because their idiotic manoeuvres have exposed us all. Open conflicts are extremely delicate in this day and age," he deplored.

"But, they don't want that either, right? They don't want the Muggles to discover us?" I reasoned.

"They don't understand the threat the Muggles pose. They underestimate them constantly in the ICW assemblies," he revealed.

My head was swimming with new information. I didn't know which question to ask next. I glanced at the French Minister again and asked, incredulous:

"So you think he's here to declare war? On your birthday?"

The Dark Lord shook his head minutely.

"No, not here, not now. He is in enemy territory; it would be too great a risk for him. By now, whether he set up the trap with his daughter or not, he should know the results. He is probably here to observe us.

-Us? You mean...Wizarding Britain?" I asked, confused.

He had a faint smile at that.

"I meant you and I," he said before stopping our dance. I hadn't even noticed that the song was over. I saw him start the bow that meant our dancing was over and hurriedly bowed with him and a bit deeper. It apparently meant that I recognised his higher status, but it didn't bother me because he did have a higher status in society. I was barely an adult and had just passed my OWLs, so my status couldn't compare to the leader of a nation, after all. But what did he mean when he said that Delacour was there to observe us? Our relationship, maybe? To see if it was true and all? I didn't think it was worth the detour, really. There had been enough photographs in the past week or so since it had been revealed.

I left the dance floor and walked over to the buffet to get something to drink. I got a glass of fancy champagne because the server handed me one and I didn't have the heart to tell him I wanted pumpkin juice. The fact that it would probably make me look even younger than I was stopped me as well. I scanned it discreetly to check if somebody had tampered with the liquid or the container, but it was clean. I sipped it slowly, unfamiliar with the taste, while I looked at the dancing couples, my head turning over what I had just learned and the mystery the Dark Lord had left me with.

He had just said that one of the contributing factors for the French to start intervening more directly in our affairs was my presence at his side. But why would I be so important for them? Did they know about the Prophecy? Only a selected few knew it, and most of them were in the Rebels. Moody came to my mind. Could he be plotting with the French? Would he really sell his country over just because he couldn't accept that the Dark Lord had won the war some fourteen years ago?

"Harry! I wanted to introduce you at last to Miss Astoria Greengrass, my fiancée," said Draco, interrupting my thoughts. It was weird to see him at official functions. He always looked so prim and proper, nothing like the annoyingly charming young man I had come to know. I had learnt early on that all Purebloods had public masks. It was part of their upbringing. The Dark Lord pretty much keep it on all the time, only lowering his barriers for me from time to time when I made him laugh or when he teased me, or when we talked about serious stuff, or when we had sex...Well, he was pretty often relaxed with me, now that I thought about it. It was flattering, in a way.

I shook my head minutely to get myself to focus on what was happening. A beautiful young woman stood elegantly in front of me, one hand delicately laid on Draco's arm and the other ready for me to take and kiss, when I'd get out of my head and focused enough to do so. It had been a long day. _A very long day_, I thought as I bowed and kissed her hand as gracefully as I could manage. This whole protocol still felt somewhat foreign to me, even if Sirius had drilled it in my head years ago. I had never really any chance to apply it until recently.

"It's a delight to meet you at last, Miss Greengrass. Draco has sung your praises numerous times, but he somehow failed to convey just how radiant you look," I said, laying in the charm as thickly as I could.

Astoria lifted a hand to cover her mouth and offered a dainty little laugh for my effort. How charming. How feminine. How boring.

_I guess I just confirmed once and for all that I'm gay,_ I thought at that moment. Then again, the problem might just be that she wasn't the Dark Lord. How did I say it, again, all those months ago? Voldesexual? Apparently, that still held in the presence of such a pretty girl.

_Perhaps she is simply too innocent and harmless for my tastes,_ I ventured as I saw her lips stretch in a pleased smile and reveal two rows of perfect straight little pearly teeth. The Dark Lord nearly had fangs in comparison.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Potter. I have heard a lot of you from Draco as well," she reciprocated.

"All in good, I hope?" I asked, as wanted the tradition.

"Some, I am sure", she teased lightly. "I do wish to take this opportunity to thank you for saving his life. Without you, I am sure, my wonderful fiancé would certainly not have gotten out of his imprisonment so rapidly and I might not be here, standing before you on this joyful occasion," she said seriously.

Ah. She was referring to when I had rescued him from the Rebel Camp all those months ago. I wondered if it wasn't an infringement of protocol to talk about life debts before five minutes of mundane talk had passed. Somehow, as I saw a hint of determination and strength glint in her turquoise eyes, I knew that Astoria Greengrass existed outside of this shallow world of ballrooms and glamour.

I glanced at Draco, conveying silently my approval of her. Draco straightened up immediately, shot me a pointed look and raised an eyebrow, probably trying to answer that he didn't need my approval, but that he was pleased anyway. Or something like that. But I had gotten pretty good at reading him in the past few months, so I thought I had guessed right.

Before any of us could start a real conversation, a voice called Draco. It was the French Minister.

"Ah, mon cher Monsieur Malfoy! Drago, c'est bien ça?" he asked...or at least, it sounded like a question.

"Draco, oui," corrected my friend politely. "Comment allez-vous, Monsieur le Ministre?"

He lost me after the 'yes' part. I didn't think that I could ever learn another language. English was troublesome enough for me, not to mention the Latin from the spells..._I wonder why spells work in Latin, though. Shouldn't they work in any language? What is Chinese or Egyptian magic like? Marvolo probably knows. He told me he had travelled around the world when he was younger..._

"You will have to excuse my friend, Monsieur Delacour, he doesn't speak French," said Draco, drawing my attention again now that I could understand him.

"Ah, yes, Misteur Potter, was eet? Eet iz simply a pleasure to meet you 'ere," he said in a fluent English, but with a slight accent. He sounded really enthusiastic to meet me, that was for sure.

"Ah, yes, nice to meet you too, Sir," I reciprocated. I saw Draco wince in the background. I had probably not answered with enough niceties for a foreign dignitary.

"I trust your family is doing well?" came out of my mouth as I tried to make myself sound more polite. I winced internally when I realised that I couldn't have asked a more delicate question if I wanted to, considering what had happened with Gabrielle today.

_Still_, I thought as I observed his eyes narrowing shrewdly on me. _His answer will be interesting to hear. It could be a way to see if the Dark Lord had been right in suspecting the whole thing was a set up._

"You dare ask me zis question?" he hissed, in complete contrast to the jovial man I had met a few seconds before. Well, if I ever thought I had a future in politics outside of the Dark Lord's sphere of influence, I had just shot a Cutting curse to my foot right there and then. I must have committed at least a dozen _faux pas_ since the guy arrived. But I was not one to back down in the face of self-righteous indignation. Because, seriously, what type of father would go laugh and smile at a party the same night when his daughter was abducted by a pedophile? Suddenly, the Dark Lord's theory appeared more and more plausible.

I straightened up under his glare, noting with satisfaction that I was taller than him, and returned his haughty look as best as I could.

"And what if I do?" I shot back at him, refusing to back down and apologise for a tactless question.

"I will not answer eet. Contrarily to you, Misteur Potter, I keep my private life out of ze political scene. Eet is called _savoir vivre_. Some lessons would help you greatly, I zink," he said haughtily, probably referring to how I had behaved with the Dark Lord earlier.

"You do realise you just said that the Dark Lord and Leader of Wizarding Britain lacked manners," I pointed out, not knowing whether I should be insulted on his behalf or amused that he had dared to do so at Marvolo's birthday gala in the home of the British Minister for Magic. I saw Draco's face twist in horror from the corner of my eye before he got his mask back in place. He looked between us rapidly as if he was trying to determine something. Astoria pulled him down and whispered shortly in his ear, but I couldn't pay attention to his reaction because Delacour spoke again.

"Preposterous, young man! You obviously don't know much about the intricate _nuances_ of ze political language. To attribute such intentions to my simple remark iz to showcase yourself as an _amateur_ from the start," he added with a fake laugh. He was nervous. He hid it well, but I could feel it in his magic spiking and making some of his short blond hair stand on his balding head.

Draco had probably felt the tension rising between us because he tried to tell me to cool it by giving me pointed looks and widening his eyes significantly.

I couldn't care less about his ridiculous signs, but when I saw the Dark Lord look over us and raise an eyebrow in question from across the room, it reminded me that this wasn't a game. A political incident could lead to a war, a war that would have disastrous consequences on the Magical World.

"Haha," I faked a laugh. Judging from Draco's new wince, I probably did it quite badly. "Yes, yes, of course, all of this is quite new to me, I'm afraid. You will have to excuse my poor behaviour. I have been told that I was a bit...hot headed by nature. I hope I didn't offend you..." I offered too magnanimously for my taste.

"Not at all, not at all, I assure you. You are young. You 'ave much to learn. Maybe you should come and vizit us in France. I am sure you would learn at lot of ze political game zere," he said, faux joviality back in his tone. Even his magic had calmed down. Crisis averted?

"Well, I do want to travel around the world at some point and learn about new cultures and forms of magic and so on. Maybe France should be my first stop?" I suggested uncertainly. Who the heck passed from hostility to conviviality so quickly? What was I supposed to answer to that?

"I am sure it will be. Now, if you will excuse me, Messieurs Potter and Malefoy, Mademoiselle Greangrasse," he said, saluting shallowly and taking his leave.

As soon as he was gone, Draco rounded on me:

"What the hell were you thinking! Do you know just how close you passed to causing a disaster?" he asked imperiously.

I looked around and saw that his incensed behaviour was attracting some unwanted attention so I leaned forward and said quietly:

"Draco, you don't know the whole story, so back off. That guy deserved way worse than he got. Trust me.

-What do you mean?" he asked, furrowing his brow. Before I could decide whether I should tell him or not, Astoria interrupted our low discussion:

"Draco, darling. I'm afraid I feel quite neglected here. If you don't pay more attention to me, I will start to think that you like your friend Harry better than me," she threatened with a sad pout. Draco and I shot her an incredulous look. It was a serious discussion that we had. Didn't she understand that?

Just when I was beginning to think that I had overestimated her intelligence, I saw comprehension dawn on Draco's face and he straightened up, his fine mask back in place as he put a light hand on his fiancée's back.

"If you will excuse us, Harry, the lady would like a dance, methinks," he announced before whisking her away. _Well, that was sudden_, I thought while sipping my champagne thoughtfully. Champagne tasted weird and Astoria's behaviour was puzzling. What did Draco understand?

"I find myself delighted in Draco's fine choice of a fiancée, I must say," said Lucius who suddenly appeared at my side. I would not have to move from my spot if they all kept coming to visit me like that.

I hummed distractedly in answer.

"At first, he was supposed to marry Miss Daphne Greengrass, did he tell you? A graceful young lady, assuredly, but she somehow lacks the political finesse that comes so naturally to her younger sister," he said, looking at me with a lifted eyebrow.

"Right," I answered uncertainly.

Obviously, tonight was not my night for understanding the subtleties beneath everybody's words. I couldn't believe that this day was not over yet. So much had happened and I just wanted to crawl in my comfy bed next to my powerful and dangerous lover and just stay there for a week...lover who was currently having his own strained conversation with the French Minister on the other side of the room. I could only hope the guy didn't go and complain about my behaviour to him as if he was responsible for me or something...

"Simply put, Harry, my son and you looked conspicuous, whispering urgently together like you did, and she had the good sense of putting an end to it before too many people noticed and started speculating," he revealed.

"Speculating about what?" I asked, puzzled. I felt a light privacy ward settle around us.

"About whatever you were discussing, about the relationship between you and my son...perhaps even about the relationship between Draco and our Lord..." he enumerated.

I barely managed to avoid coughing up my latest sip of champagne at the thought.

"The Dark Lord and Draco? That's absurd! Draco is not even gay! And the Dark Lord thinks Draco is childish and whiny!" I revealed without thinking. At Lucius's look of discomfort, I apologised:

"Oh, sorry, Lucius. I don't think I was supposed to tell you that...and I don't think that Draco is childish. He can be really mature when he wants to," I offered. Tonight was not my night for delicateness.

"I am sure he can be, Harry. I am rather relived that my Lord has never manifested any interest toward him, to tell you the truth. Draco would not...be suited for such a...situation, I'm afraid," he revealed, hesitatingly.

I felt my eyebrows lift at that. It was a strange comment. Was he referring to Draco's orientation? Then I remembered something Draco told me when he learnt that I was the Dark Lord's lover.

"Are you worried because of what happened to Draco's cousin? Your nephew, right?

- No, he was related to Narcissa's side of the family. I am surprised Draco talked to you about him, normally he doesn't like to be reminded of it.

-Why, what happened?

-It was rather simple, really. He thought his contacts gave him more leeway and he talked. And he died. It was blown out of proportion because the actual punishment was carried out by his oath of silence immediately and, in that moment, he happened to be in the company of Draco and one of his other cousin with whom he was close, some Nymphadora Tonks. I think you might be familiar with her. They were at an impressionable age, sadly, and Nymphadora grew up to be quite resentful to the Dark Lord as a result. I was surprised when she gave up substantial information and left the Rebels after she was discovered as a spy, honestly," he confessed.

I thought over the story and how it had shaped Tonks' destiny. The Dark Lord had been right earlier, when he said that sometimes, decisions we took only had apparent consequences years later.

"Is that why you were so worried about the Dark Lord and me at the beginning?" I asked Lucius. It made more sense if that was the case.

Lucius eyed me closely.

"What makes you think I have stopped worrying?" he asked.

I looked at him incredulously.

"But it's been months!" I protested. He looked unfazed by my objection.

"You are a candid, direct young man, Harry. I would have wished for you to be in a relationship with someone who could appreciate all that you are. I respect your choices and of course I can't object to my Lord's decisions, but I do worry. The Dark Lord is very... powerful and it's easy to lose one's sense of self to try to please him. You are at a moment in life where your very identity is shaped by your decisions. You have already changed so much from when I met you. I only wish for you to retain some of the fierce young man I got to know when you first came to live at my Manor. Don't let yourself fall in the trap of thinking that your whole life will always turn around him and that you have to change to become what is best suited for him."

I felt oddly moved when I listened to Lucius' explanation. It was striking how much Lucius cared for me. He seemed to have really taken me under his wing. I felt some of the void that Sirius' death had left in me fill up with a renewed respect and affection for that man who was so dedicated to those he considered as his family.

"Thank you, Lucius. It's...very nice to know that you care. But, although the situation between the Dark Lord and me is really complicated, for the moment at least, it works well. And, you know, I don't fool myself into thinking it will last forever either, so you can sleep soundly," I teased him with a small smile. "Besides, don't you have enough to worry about with your own family already? How's Narcissa doing by the way? I haven't really had the chance to talk to her about it yet. You were so busy last time at your Yule party that I didn't want to bother you with my questions."

To tell the truth, I was too buried in my own reflections about my relationship with the Dark Lord and the slight awkwardness I felt in his presence during our sort of 'break' that I hadn't even tried to talk to either of them at their party. To my defense, however, they really were busy. The place had swarmed with people, even more than this party, which had a carefully selected attendance.

"Narcissa is doing well, thankfully, and our daughter is steadily growing stronger as time passes. My wife made a comment the other day about how she never got to see you these days, however. I think she finds it slightly bothersome to be restricted to the Manor grounds now that the news is out, but it would be too dangerous to let her mingle with the public in her fragile state. Her sister Bellatrix is often by, but I think that she would appreciate it if you were to go visit her soon."

It was a good idea. Now that the holiday season was nearly over and that Draco was about to head back to Hogwarts, calm would return marginally in my life. Between my NEWTs tutoring, which would start soon enough, I probably still had the time for a few visits. I owed her that much anyway, for welcoming me in her home after I had just left the Rebels. It felt odd, nearly as if I was part of the family, and yet not, but I liked it.

I agreed with the idea, and he left shortly after to mingle with other important guests, I supposed. That left me alone with my champagne, yet again.

I pondered the small amount I had still left in my flute and wondered if having a second one would make me appear like an alcoholic in the newspaper or if wandering around with a nearly empty glass for too long would make me look like I had a quota of one drink and was milking it the best I could. If I just finished the glass now, could I avoid getting another one, or would it make me look stupid, just standing there empty-handed?

Details, details. I repressed a sigh, rubbing my slightly aching stomach. By now, I was pretty much aching everywhere. I dismissed it as a consequence of the magical exhaustion and the physical strain of the day. Life was not so complicated at the Rebel Camp. Or it was, but for different reasons. Dammit. I was more tired than I thought if I started ranting to myself.

I swept the room with my eyes in search for the Dark Lord. Last time I had seen him, he had been completely at the opposite of the room. Where had he gone now? Dammit, why was everything so blurry all of a sudden? I should have insisted on taking a power nap some time during the day, or skipped some of that long gift-giving ceremony...but then, I wouldn't have been there to help Gabrielle and who knows how the Dark Lord would have reacted to her if he had been alone? He might have just decided it was easier to kill her to get out of explaining why she had been at Lucius' Manor... Such a bastard, he was, sometimes. Where was he, by the way? _And what have I eaten recently that could make my stomach hurt so badly?_ I thought, pressing against a hand on my stomach distractedly. I couldn't even remember last time I had eaten. Wasn't there some food around here?

I looked confusedly around, but it was as if someone had dimmed all the lights. I heard a glass shatter and realised that it was my champagne flute that had slipped from my hand and fell on the ground. Dammit, that would make some headline tomorrow.

"Chosen One too clumsy to hold to his glass." Or even better, "Boy-Who-Lived gets drunk on one glass of champagne! Did he have pre-drinks with the Dark Lord beforehand?" They were a bit ridiculous, really, those journalists. Now, really, what was happening in this room?

I bent down a bit to try to pick up the shattered glass, but I lost balance and slipped and somehow ended on the ground. What the heck? The floor had come up way too fast...if that made sense.

I confusedly heard some shouts and my last thought was that it might be because someone had closed all the lights.

.

* * *

Oh no, what happened? Will our dear Harry will be alright? Will there be a war with France? How will the Dark Lord create his empire? Is the relationship between Harry and him degrading, or getting stronger, in your mind?

This was the second longest chapter so far, I hope you liked it all ! Thank you in advance for reviewing! :D


	46. Chapter 46

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hi, everyone! Sorry for the delay! I was moving apartments and working on some upcoming twists in the plot of the story. The result was that I left you hanging on last chapter's cliff for longer than usual. I apologise for that ^^' Hopefully, this chapter will compensate for the wait!

Thank you for the massive show of support in the last chapter! I really appreciate it! You guys were the reason I kept coming back to my story and working on it through my busy schedule :) This chapter would probably have gone out in a month's time if it wasn't for you ;)

To my guest reviewers:

Cherrie-san: Someone will do just that. We will see how it will turn out. ;)

FanFiction Lover: I happen to find my actual father pretty awesome, actually, so I'd keep him. To be honest, when I see awesome characters in books, I don't want to imagine them as my father. That would mean that I'd be attracted to my father. I'd rather have the option open for some...developments without it being incestuous, if ya know what I mean ;)

Boblove321: I agree with you. The Black Bunny is often OOC, but it was mentioned in the warning at the beginning of the story. It's part of the concept of the story that it doesn't take itself seriously. I remember the chapter with the theme park and McDonald's, though, and I get why you stopped. It's too bad though, because I think that the part when Harry decides to implicate himself in the war started right after and brought nice elements to the story. But, well, I understand your decision in any case :) So, I made you doubt Harry and Voldemort's relationship in the last chapter? Mouhouhaha. That was partly my intention. It can't always go well between the two of them, right? I do agree that they'd need to talk about it, but they already have trouble acknowledging that their relationship is becoming more serious and that they care for each other. I guess it would make them a bit vulnerable to discuss openly the feelings and plans for their relationship. You liked the shower scene? Nice, hehe :) Did you really go and reread the whole fic? You know, at this point, this monster is about 350 pages long. I'll confess something to you. When I go back to reread some of it, I usually start after Harry and Voldemort's first meeting. All the teasing makes me smile :)

pennameisblank: Glad to read that my writing has improved since then. It is my first narrative work in English, after all, so I will take it as a positive sign. I suppose there hasn't been any "proper" action since the attack against the Rebels. I did think Gabrielle's kidnapping was a bit more than "a few shady political moves", however. So, I respectfully disagree on the plot going stale, but will concede that it might be developing a bit too slow for my tastes as well.

Kumo: Happy belated birthday! I'm glad you decided to give this story a try despite the first-person POV deterrent. I liked your description when you said that Voldie gave you "all sorts of tingles". That's the goal! ;) Fatherly Lucius has a surprising success with my reviewers and I'm really happy about it too. :) I'm afraid Voldemort might not be as mushy as he could be, but there will still be a tender moment or two that should compensate for it. ;)

In the previous chapter : Shower action, the Dark Lord reveals his plans for a new government without racism based on merit, Lucius gets cosy with the floor, Umbridge is surprisingly not dead yet, Crouch is still sorta creepy, but the French Minister of Foreign Affaires, Mr. Delacour, might actually be worse than him (if the Dark Lord's suspicions are right and he did plan his daughter's kidnapping) and Harry collapsed in the middle of the Ball for the Dark Lord's birthday.

* * *

Chapter 46: Powerless

31st of December 1997, Malfoy Manor

Lucius vaguely attempted to understand the nonsensical account of one Xenophilius Lovegood, while he pondered the events of the day. While not completely disastrous, the situation was troublesome enough. He knew that something had recently happened between his Lord and Harry, but since the latter had refused to talk about it, and he would never dare to ask the former, he was left with only speculations. Dark speculations, indeed, because there was a long list of things that the Dark Lord had repeatedly done to his lovers or servants that would be enough to, he hoped, make Harry take his distance from him.

"My Luna said it is imperative that I prevent the Blibbering Humdingers from harming her young soon-to-be-or-at-least-she-hopes-so-friend!" insisted Lovegood, his dirty blond hair sticking to his sweaty forehead in an unnerving display of anxiety.

Lucius struggled to hold his composure at the sight. Baring the vague resemblance in the colour of their hair, he really didn't understand why some...deranged wizards insisted that they must have family in common. He subtly eyed the man in search for hints that he might be a long-lost cousin, but was distracted in his observation by the absurdities coming out of the other's mouth that he couldn't help but hear, despite his best efforts.

When he felt that an answer was expected of him, he mumbled a consolation:

"No need to worry, Mister Lovegood, as a member of the press tonight, you will escorted back to your home by an Auror as protection when you wish to leave the premise."

It sadly made the man look at him with strangely protuberant eyes for only a moment of blessed silence, before he started babbling again.

"But, I assure you, Lucius, the problem isn't with me," pressed Lovegood, irritating the Minister with his familiarity. He certainly had never given the strange man the authorisation to address him so.

"As I have said, my daughter is quite sure that..." started again the annoying man. Thankfully, he was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering.

_There you go. Will it be a drunken guest or server in need of a good firing?_ wondered Lucius, relieved that, either way, it would give him an excuse to take his leave from Lovegood.

He turned around just in time to see Harry stumble confusedly, his arms extended on both sides of him as if the ordinarily graceful young man had lost his balance. If Lucius did not known him as well as he did, he would have thought the boy incredibly drunk and on the verge of vomiting, if the hand pressed on his stomach was anything to go by. However, the pained facial expression he saw as Harry crumbled suddenly to the ground took care of any remaining doubts he might have as the cause of Harry's condition.

Forgetting the composed image he had to uphold for a moment, he ran up to his young friend and hurriedly kneeled at his side while casting diagnostic charms. It didn't look good. It didn't look good at all.

Harry moved his head around, unseeing, and convulsed on the marble floor, his broken glass digging in his left hand, the lack of liquid in the vicinity indicating that either he had time to drink it all, or that the culprit had vanished what remained of it. Poison was the obvious solution, but, as he cast diagnostic charms one after the other, only a mild case of Veritaserum intoxication came up. As he dug further in that avenue, he found it to be a few hours old, however, taking out this possibility.

As the Head of a Dark family, he had had training in poisons and the antidotes, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what could have happened here. He suddenly regretted his old friend Severus' absence. He would have known what to do better than anyone else in this situation.

In his desperate haze, he barely noticed Draco's presence at his side until his son dropped to his knees and shoved something in Harry's mouth. A Bezoar! Of course! He had never been as glad of Draco's interest in Potions as he was now. At that moment, Lucius promised himself never to berate Draco for his unrewarding career choice ever again.

As he waited for the stone to work its magic, he looked around at his guests for the first time since he had spotted Harry's predicament.

It seemed like the Dark Lord had taken upon himself to handle the search for a culprit. The guests had been herded in a corner, and the only reason they kept vaguely sedated was because of his Lord's intimidating ire.

And angry he was. He was barking orders to his Death Eaters and Aurors and the guests flinched at every harsh syllable that escaped his mouth, as if they had forgotten the Dark Lord was a very dangerous and intimidating man. His Dark Magic was weighting down and choking everyone present, only letting up somewhat around those attempting to take care of Harry.

Attempting seemed to be the key word here, since the Bezoar had apparently not worked. Narcissa, who had some training as a medi-witch, was white as a sheet as she cast spell after spell. Harry seemed to be having a negative reaction to different spells cast on him and his convulsing was back in full force. His eyes had rolled in the back of his head and his breathing was erratic and rattling.

"It's infecting his lungs! Fizzy, where is my Fever-reducing Potion? And bring my Healer's kit! Draco, quantity of liquid absorbed?" fired away his wife, wisps of hair escaping her carefully done hairdo as she took control of the situation.

"Just a flute! Seven ounces, at most. Mother, he's presenting symptoms of an allergy to the Bezoar!" shot back his son.

"We have to make him vomit," decided Narcissa, lifting her wand to cast the spell.

"No!" shouted a guest from the corner of the room. "The contact with the magic fighting the poison might be detrimental to his recovery!" She looked like she desperately wanted to approach Harry, only to be cowed back into the crowd every time she glanced at the Dark Lord.

Lucius got up and went to see her.

He didn't recognise her. Which meant that she was probably the date of one preeminent Heir or another. The young Death Eater rising star, Blaise Zabini, was at her side. He was probably the one to bring her. An unusual choice of a partner, for someone in need to prove his value to the rest of them.

"Please, I am doing my Mastery in Healing. I can help!" she beseeched him.

Lucius glanced at the Dark Lord, but he seemed too busy exchanging cutting words with the French Ambassador and possibly declaring war on France (Lucius wouldn't even let himself think of the far-reaching consequences it could have!) to pay much attention to them. He did notice his Master send a worried glance at Harry's shaking form in the moment he looked, however, telling him that, if it weren't for the public, the Dark Lord would probably be at his lover's side.

_Focus, Lucius! You are the Minister of Magic, you can take this decision by yourself!_ he scolded himself before nodding at the young woman and bringing her to Harry's side. It was obvious that the young man's condition had deteriorated in the minute or so he had been gone. It was a fortuitous that a Healer was present in the guests, as they were not usually the type to frequent these circles.

The girl refrained from adding her own diagnostic charms to the ones that everybody had shot at Harry, but listened attentively to the report Narcissa was giving her.

After a while, she came up to preliminary conclusions.

"No more spells on him! It's forcing his Magic to answer and it's already too depleted to divide its attention. The Bezoar is reacting with the Veritaserum and bringing it back in the fight. That reaction was under control and wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't for the magical exhaustion, the Dark Magic intoxication and the added poison."

"Do you know what type of poison it was?" he asked hurriedly.

The girl stopped short for a moment and leaned to whisper to him:

"If the diagnostic charms are not coming up with anything, at the moment, I am tempted to say that it might be..." her voice dropped even lower. "A non-magical poison."

A non-mag... a Muggle poison?

"But that would mean that..." started Lucius, but the girl had already returned her attention to Harry.

"Do you have the proper training to handle this?" he asked her, worried that Muggle poisons might not be part of the ordinary Healer curriculum.

"No worries; it's actually a nice coincidence, but I'm specialising in Muggle poisons and how to deal with them," she revealed, making Lucius frown as he considered the slim chance of having a Healer specialised in what they needed show up out of nowhere exactly when they needed her.

After a moment of short movements with her wand, she stored it away and suddenly grabbed Harry, wrapped her arms around his stomach and squeezed him. Hard. Enough to make the by now nearly delirious boy let out a strangled whimper.

Draco, Narcissa and he all gasped in surprise and horror at the move. Draco even jumped on her and wrestled her down and away from Harry. Lucius barely had time to catch the slumping body of the unconscious boy before he heaved and vomited all over his expensive dress robes.

Thankfully, and worriedly (When had Harry last eater?), only a small amount of liquid came out of Harry's mouth and most of it was bile. And blood. Dammit.

"Impertinent brat, release the Healer immediately. Miss Clearwater, please proceed," ordered tersely the Dark Lord who had come back to take matters in his own hands.

Lucius knew that it wasn't a good omen for his job as a Minister that he hadn't been able to help Harry by himself, but he couldn't help but feel relieved that his Master had taken over this crisis.

He looked up to evaluate if he could make himself useful with the remaining guests, but soon realised that the situation there was under Crouch and his Aurors' control. That damn Crouch! Lucius should have been the one directing the Obliviation process (because assuredly, there was going to be some Obliviation done tonight before they let the majority of them go) and seeing off the guests.

Instead, he had taken over the task of helping Harry. An area in which he knew next to nothing. He couldn't help a twinge of jealousy toward both Crouch and his Master for having the situation well in hand, whatever happened. He looked back at his Lord who was now discussing the pros and cons of a Healing technique with the girl as if he had studied Healing for years. Which he might have, for all Lucius knew. The man was a bottomless well of knowledge and knew the basis of practically every magical discipline, current or ancient. It was one of the things he had always admired about his Master, and was glad for it in this situation in particular because the Malfoy family had obviously not been prepared to deal with such a complicated case.

To say that the Dark Lord was furious when he learnt of the hours-old Veritaserum intoxication and how it reacted to the Muggle poison was an understatement. At least, it reassured the part of Lucius that thought his Lord might have been the one who had administrated it.

When the Healer said that Harry's magic was too weak at the moment to fight the combined poisons and that Harry was in grave danger of dying, the Dark Lord lifted a hand to his face and exhaled slowly. Lucius thought he read grief flash on his Master's face before it was hid beneath his hand. It shocked him deeply.

Did the Dark Lord really care that much for Harry's survival?

It made him regret the nagging suspicion he had entertained that his Master had been the one who poisoned Harry to accuse the French Minister of attacking him and give him a pretext for a war. It was a move his Master would never have hesitated to pull in his old days.

Now, thought Lucius as he took in the hand Voldemort had placed on his lover's neck in what could pass for a gesture of tenderness, he wasn't so sure of it. When a second hand was pressed on top of Harry's heart as the young man had worriedly stilled, he realised that the Dark Lord was using an obscure ritual to heal his lover. Something told him that none of them was going to remember this part of the evening after tonight. It pained him because he had just started to accept that Harry might be the only person who could make his Lord change for the better.

As it was, after another hour of difficult combat against the poison and a mostly stabilised Harry, Lucius did remember his conclusion, but conveniently forgot the strange coincidences that had happened that evening, like the fortuitous presence of the Muggle poison specialist.

He was only left with a strange sense of foreboding, which he attributed to the rapidly escalating tensions with the French Ministry and the war looming in the horizon.

o0o0o

.

Malfoy Manor, 30th of January 1998.

Fainting was not as interesting as it was hyped up to be. Being poisoned neither, I found. Even being poisoned because some Frenchies had the brill idea to provoke the Dark Lord into starting a war to have the backup of the ICW and beat him in his own territory was not as enhancive for one's self-esteem as one would think either.

It just meant a long and boring time lying in a fucking bed. And in Malfoy Manor, because my prestigious lover didn't have the time (or the interest, I thought unappreciatively) to nurse me to health. Apparently, both Marvolo and Lucius thought it would best to make the weaker links of their relationships stay protected at home together while they settled the problem at the Ministry as the good alpha males they were. I wanted to scream to them that I was an alpha male too, but my voice matched my magic levels those days. That is to say that it was pretty weak. And it hurt to admit it. I never wanted to feel so powerless again.

It had been an uphill struggle to beat the poison, I heard. Normally, I wouldn't have had so much trouble, but it was as if the whole world had conspired to weaken my immune system that day. I was already emotionally drained and sleep deprived from my time away from the Dark Lord and the sex marathon that followed my return. Then, of course, Barty demolished my magical strength with his powerful spell. Then, my body had to fight against a mild case of Veritaserum intoxication because it hadn't been a good-quality potion and I hadn't managed to vomit everything quickly enough. Add a splash of alcohol with a subtly added poison by a certain French Minister (I supposed it was him, even if the Dark Lord hadn't been able to prove it yet) during our brief conversation and you had a recipe for disaster. It was a conspiracy.

The Healer I saw when I awoke a few days later said it was a miracle that I was still alive. That I survived only because I was fighter through and through. I wanted to show him some of my inner fighter when he said I'd be confined to the bed for an indefinite amount of time until I got better. "Avoid straining activities," he had added nervously, trying not to glance at the Dark Lord while he said that. The message was clear enough without him needing to. Confined to a bed without sex, the best part of beds. I couldn't even snuggle up to Marvolo because the bastard was staying at his Fortress and had passed the burden of taking care of me unto Narcissa.

Dammit. Life was harsh.

At least, I was fulfilling my promise and 'visiting' Narcissa like I told Lucius I'd do. Sadly, that also meant that I got more than my desired share of Bellatrix at the same time. Indeed, it appeared that 'Bella', as I was now to call her, had become extremely attached to the small life growing in her sister's belly. I had wanted to warn Narcissa that I thought Bella would try to steal the baby from her to put it in her own stomach, but the image was so gruesome that it made my fragile stomach heave and started another lovely chain of reactions that left me weakened and paralysed on my bed 'for my own good' for a few additional days. I had tried not to think of stolen babies since then.

Despite the humiliation of having a 'weak' lover (as if it was my fault that I was poisoned), Marvolo did come to visit me from time to time. Not nearly enough for my taste and bored imagination, but I knew how focused he became when he was busy with a project. I saw him often enough to hear him rant about the stupidity and stubbornness of the ICW and how he'd like to just launch his attack against France and throw caution out of the window. Sadly for him, they still hadn't found any evidence that the French either set up Gabrielle, or poisoned me. Thankfully for the rest of us, he also had tons of advisors to respectfully argue with him all day, remind him of the potential catastrophe it would cause if the Muggles were to find us before we were ready for that eventuality and keep him from destroying life as we knew it in one fit of rage and retribution. So, I just listened instead, and watched, and learned, and nodded and hmmed and ahhed at the right places and slid in a few helpfully moral suggestions when I thought he'd be receptive to them. And since I was such a good listener, he kept coming back to see me, and talk and rant. And it did seem like I really helped him and supported him despite being stuck in bed. I idly wondered if I'd be as calm and patient about it if I could just up and leave, or if I had other distractions. As it was, it was either listening to him, or reading NEWTs textbooks.

Remus had brought them the other day in what had been the most awkward conversation of my life. And yes, it had been worse than 'The Talk: Special Edition' Sirius had given me all those months (it felt like years) ago. It took the cake because it included fabulous topics such as: the amazing 'knowing James, he wouldn't have been pleased (no shit?), but you know, I think he would have come around eventually', the insightful 'what to expect when you're dating a Dark Lord (where did he take his sources?)' and the marvellous conversation filler 'I had noticed months ago that you were having sex with the Dark Lord because I could smell it (Eurg), but I was waiting for you to come out to me with it'.

Great, just great, Remus. It only got better when he mentioned that apparently Sirius had known of my 'dangerous infatuation' with the Dark Lord and had been worried enough to send a rare letter to his childhood friend to ask for advice. Wow, I had been really obvious about it, apparently. No wonder Moody had had trouble trusting me back then if I was already salivating after the Dark Lord's metaphorical shoes.

So, of course, after this magnificently comfortable conversation, I only thought it fair to return some of the shame on Remus and shot back the ball by accusing him of having given information on me to the EFA, and being part of Bill's group despite having promised the Dark Lord that he wouldn't take part in any rebellious activities after he left the Camp. Which inevitably led to a wonderful volley of screaming on responsibility and morals that apparently set me back of about a week in my recovery. I hadn't had lessons with him since then.

Wow. Just. Wow.

So, over all, my life had really took a turn for the best in the last month. At least, I had somehow acquired (or, at least, kept) the role of Marvolo's confidant through all this mess. And I was getting better. I could now walk around for a few steps without collapsing instantly. Yay. And I was cautiously allowed to do basic magic. Nothing too straining, though. Of course not.

.

Today, however, proved to be very different from the routine of the other days. I awoke from a nap to the delicate features of my favourite Potions Masters. That, in itself, was not very special since he had cautiously resumed his tuition about a week before. What was surprising, however, was the bunch of flowers he was holding in his left hand. I lifted an eyebrow at the sight.

"Aww, Severus. You shouldn't have," I said, smirking. It was too easy to let it pass.

Snape, second surprise of the day, only rolled his eyes in answer.

"Are you coming?" he asked, as if we had made plans at some point.

"Err...Snape? Where are we going?" I inquired, intrigued, sitting up on my bed after a few seconds of struggling.

"Don't you know which day it is, ungrateful brat?" he snapped.

"30th of January, why?" I replied, by now quite used to his gentle disposition.

"And does the date not tell you anything?" he pushed.

I furrowed my brows, trying to think of what usually happened around this time of the year. I had a confused feeling that I should know what it was, but couldn't remember exactly the occasion.

"Valentine's Day is coming up in a while?" I came up with, lamely, because of his flowers.

He sneered at me.

"I have no interest in such trifling Muggle mating rituals. Do not confound me with your hormonal self," he replied, disgusted.

I shrugged at him, since I had no other idea of what the date could be.

"Come, then," he ordered before sweeping from the room dramatically. I rolled my eyes in answer, happy that I was already dressed. I never realised how energy-consuming putting pants on was before I was poisoned. I nearly made me want to invest in a couple of dresses or in those weird Muggle hospital gowns to spare me the trouble. Nearly.

I braced myself and lowered my feet to the ground slowly. The initial shock was always problematic, so I had to tame the floor by creeping to it inch by inch. Once that part was over, there was the gradual transfer of weight unto my legs and, if that worked, I was usually good to go for a few steps. Then, I had to take a breather while holding for my dear life on the door frame. Rehabilitation really wasn't the forte of Healers in the Wizarding World, apparently, so I had to do this stuff by myself and hope that my magic would heal whatever damage I did by straining myself.

By now, I had just taken my second breather on the next door frame when Snape returned to me, eyes blazing. And then he took in my pathetic shaking and found an ounce of pity in his cold black heart and refrained from screaming at me to hurry up. It felt good to be so pathetic that even Snape would pity me. But he waited. And he didn't complain, so neither did I. Eventually, we reached the entrance parlour and he flicked his wand once and summoned my winter cloak. He put it on my back (which admittedly made me scowl because I was able to do as much by myself) and extended a broken quill to me.

I took the Portkey and landed painfully on the frozen ground. The shock reverberated through my whole body and I felt like knives had stabbed each of my limbs. Snape didn't wait for me to feel better before he pretty much hauled me up and pulled me forward. We were in a cemetery.

"Snape," I croaked painfully. "What are we doing here? Where are we?"

He stopped abruptly, scrutinising me.

"You mean that you have never been here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Where is 'here'?" I replied smartly, still hurting from the fall.

"Godric's Hollow," he said in a low, solemn voice.

Godric's Hollow, where my parents died and were buried. And it was the 30th of January. Then it clicked.

"Hey, it's my mother's birthday!" I told Snape.

"I hadn't noticed," he replied sarcastically.

"Snape, how did you know it was my mother's birthday? Why are you bringing her flowers?" I asked him, confused.

"In a minute," he replied.

In the meanwhile, we had arrived in front of my parents' grave. It was the first time I saw it. Sirius had always said it would be too dangerous for me to visit it, so we had never gone. Sometimes, it was difficult to remember that I had lived a year with parents and was a cherished little baby like so many others before my life took a turn for the worse. I often wondered what type of life I would have had if I had grown up with them. Sirius had always told me that James would have tried to spoil me rotten and that Lily would have kept him in check. All I had of them were a few pictures and anecdotes on their lives.

I sadly knew a lot more about pranks my father and Sirius had pulled at Hogwarts than about any other aspect of his life. I knew even less about my mother.

When Remus was still living at the Camp, he made sure that we would light a candle in memory of my parents on their birthdays, on their wedding anniversary...and on Samhain. When he left, Sirius had found it uselessly painful to bring those memories up and the tradition had faded away slowly as the years passed.

Now, I felt ashamed that someone had had to remind me of my mother's birthday, but I wanted to know why that someone was Snape.

When he noticed that I was struggling to keep standing, he conjured a comfy chair for me and shot me a Warming charm when I was settled. It somehow felt even weirder to be toasty warm in a padded chair in front of the grave of those who sacrificed everything to keep me alive. I felt inadequate, unworthy of their love. If they knew what type of person I would become, what I would grow up to do, would they have still sacrificed themselves?

"I met your mother when she was ten. I saw her fly out of her swing and soar through the air in a magnificent show of Accidental Magic. I was the one who told her she was a witch, the first who taught her about our world," Snape said, a faint smile curling the ends of his mouth ever so slightly.

"She was my dear friend for years until...we had a disagreement and had to part ways," he recalled, his expression turning wistful.

"Why didn't you tell me about it before?" I asked, softly, to avoid startling him out of his memories. He turned to me, black eyes glinting in the gentle morning light, before he turned away again, facing the grave. I saw him swallow once before he spoke again.

"To this day, I have harboured certain regrets as to how our friendship ended and how I was partly, involuntarily, responsible for her untimely death...You remind me of her in some many ways that it is sometimes painful to even think that you are her son and that you could have grown with her, had it not been from me. It is easier not to deal with this reality and to label you as a perfect replica of your father, like I have attempted to do a few times so far. Your reaction to such experiments, however, has always defied their purpose, since, in your furiously righteous sense of justice, you are purely Lily's," he explained, unconsciously rubbing over her heart has he spoke.

I didn't know what to make of it, but it certainly explained why sometimes, in our tutoring, he'd snap at me and turn away with a weird facial expression when I defended myself. It was obvious that my mother's death still burdened him to this day.

"Why do you feel responsible for my mother's death when Voldemort is the one who killed her?" I asked, calling the Dark Lord like that because, in my head, Voldemort was the insane psychopath he had been before his resurrection and Marvolo was my lover.

"I was the one who heard the Prophecy and leaked it to the Dark Lord," he confessed rapidly, uncharacteristically.

"Did you know it was talking about my mother?" I asked in a careful tone, not knowing what to think of it yet.

"I would not have brought it to him if I knew what it would cause," he said, a pleading note in his voice.

What was he searching for in telling me that? Absolution? Inner peace?

"Snape... you were only one of the key actors involved in the death of my parents, but ultimately, the fault lies in Peter Pettigrew, and in Voldemort. You cannot control all the consequences your actions will have on the general flow of life. You cannot live your life thinking of every disaster you might have potentially caused or not prevented. You have to accept that people live their own life and make their own mistakes, even if you're one of those who contributed to putting them in a shitty situation. You are not responsible for my parents' death and anybody who says otherwise is obviously trying to guilt you into doing something for them," I ranted.

The topic of responsibility had always been a touchy one for me. If I was theoretically the only one who could kill the Dark Lord, did it mean that I was partly responsible for all the deaths he has caused since my birth because I didn't manage to kill him yet? Moody certainly thought so and had tried to manipulate me like that often enough. There was a time in my life during which anybody could guilt me into doing any sort of things to get myself prepared to kill the Dark Lord just by evoking my 'responsibility' to the world.

At one point, Moody had wanted me to torture small animals and butcher them to harden myself. It had taken the horrible whining of a dog that eerily looked like Sirius' Animagus form twisting in pain on the ground to make me realise how sick it was to try to teach me cruelty and heartlessness so that I could bring peace to the world and save other people's lives. But with each piercing cry of pain from the dog I was forced to hear as I fought against the hands holding me back, my resolve had hardened. I would not let myself be manipulated. I would not lose my compassion and my humanity for the sake of a political ideology. I would battle against cruelty and injustice in whichever form it presented itself.

And now that I had killed, now that I had voluntarily caused pain, I realised that I had become not unlike Moody had wanted me to be. I realised that, with the massacre at the Rebel Camp, I had not just lost past companions, but my morality, my own resolve with it. And the realisation hurt. It tore through my soul with excruciating pain and ripped my heart out of my rib cage, exposing the blackened organ to condemning eyes.

No. My parents would not be proud of me today. Not because of my sexual orientation or because of who my lover was, but because I had been corrupted. Because I had lost a part of my identity, just as Lucius warned me might happen.

I would not blame the Dark Lord for this. He has not pushed me into committing those crimes, into weakening my morals. He had simply been there and it had been enough to corrupt me. I had been easily swayed. I had lost myself.

I felt a hesitant hand settle on my shoulder and it was enough to tip the scale over. The tears, which I had been trying to choke back for some time, burst out of their dykes in thick streams trailing down my cheeks.

As I gasped and shuddered and cried, I felt my soul progressively purge its burden until I felt cleansed of the darkness that had inhabited me.

After a while, I returned to my senses and regained control over my body. Strangely, instead of feeling weaker after such an intense reaction, I felt more energised than I had been for the past month. The guilt over the deaths I had caused had not vanished, but it had abated somehow, settled down on my past indifference like a balm on a festering wound. I would not forget them, but I would not let it slow me down either. I just had to carry this burden with me from now on, and learn from it.

As my eyes settled on Snape, who was crouching in front of my chair, with his back to my parents' grave, I automatically felt incredibly awkward. What had pushed me into showing such a weak side of myself to Snape, of all people? His difficult confession probably had something to do with it.

"You realised something," he stated, in a neutral voice. I was grateful that he was not looking at me with pity.

I nodded decisively.

"I lost track of who I was somewhere along the way and I just found it back," I summed up.

He scrutinised me for a while, seemingly pondering something.

"How do you feel now, Harry?" he asked.

Did he really have to remind me of the embarrassing show of emotions I had given him?

"I feel fine. Lighter. Energised. Don't worry; I won't cry again like that, I promise. I don't know what came over me, really.

-I know," he interrupted my rant. At first I thought he was just agreeing with whatever I was saying to make me shut up, but then he spoke again.

"I know what came over you. I know what has made you so unbalanced those past months. We all knew."

I was flabbergasted. They all knew about the Horcrux? What was the big secrecy about, then? Why would the Dark Lord insist on not mentioning the word out loud anywhere outside his Fortress?

"Lucius told me that you looked like you were nearly going insane when you stayed at his manor. I can't imagine how badly it must have been at the Dark Lord's Fortress, then," he continued.

Wait a minute. I was fine at the Dark Lord's Fortress. He stabilised the Horcrux in me, I thought we had pretty much established that. What was Snape talking about?

"I did try to suggest to Him that you could come to Hogwarts to complete your education, but He wouldn't let you go.

-How would that have helped?" I asked, interrupting his monologue.

"Well, usually, it helps to be removed from the environment that caused the trouble," he explained as if it was obvious.

"Which trouble?" I asked, to make sure we were on the same page.

"Dark Magic intoxication, of course. I thought you had figured it out. You have mood swings, you become fidgety, your thoughts are unfocused, your vision can become blurry and your grasp on magic can falter? These are all advanced signs of Dark Magic intoxication. It isn't surprising that you would develop it either, seeing as you grew up mostly surrendered by neutral or light-oriented Magic and have had little contact with Dark Magic until your arrival at Malfoy Manor. I imagine that moving in one of the most saturated locations in Britain has only accentuated the problem..." he trailed off, catching my disbelieving expression.

"Are you telling me that the ambient magic nearly everywhere I have been in the past months was affecting me and nobody saw it fit to tell me about it?" I asked incredulously. Anger was building up steadily in my chest.

"You seemed to want to stay close to him. In order to do so, you can only be Dark. We all thought your Magic would accommodate the change sooner or later. Everyone who passes from a Neutral core to a Dark one has to go through a similar experience. Some lose their sanity in the process. That's why Dark Magic is dangerous and is not to be shown to underage students. It would saturate the environment and poison the rest of them. This is basic Dark Magic theory. You grew up with a Black. No matter how idiotic he was; he couldn't have forgotten his heritage that much," said Snape in a surprised tone of voice.

"No, at the Camp, they only told us that Dark Magic was just pure evil and never to be touched and left it at that..." I replied cautiously. "And Sirius wanted to forget everything his so-called 'family' ever taught him, so he never talked about these sort of things, except to ridicule or rage against them."

"Harry, we all thought you knew, to a certain extent. I think the Dark Lord was even flattered that you would go through so extreme symptoms just to stay by his side..." he said in a sardonic voice.

I snorted at the idea of the Dark Lord being flattered by anything.

"So...if I thought that I was getting better with the symptoms, that meant...that my magic was turning Dark?" I guessed.

He frowned and studied me critically.

"If it was, I think you just ruined months of progress today," he stated.

What? What had caused the setback? Crying, repenting on my mistakes and faults? How...Christian a concept. Or was it the Christian belief that was inspired of the ways of Magic? It was a "the phoenix or the ashes" situation.

"I don't really want to be Dark...I hate that I couldn't feel regret for the lives I've taken at the Rebel Camp. I mean, how sick is that? I knew those people! I grew up with them and I couldn't even muster guilt for ending their life. I know that even more of them would have died if I hadn't gone there, but it's only just a bit less worse, you know?" I ranted while Snape stood up again and paced in the space between me and the graves.

"Is there a way for me to keep seeing all of you and remaining magically Neutral, without suffering the symptoms all the time?" I asked him.

"I am not an expert on the question, Harry, but I think it would help if you were to go to places of Neutral Magic more often" he suggested. I didn't know about that. After all, I was fine when I was with the Dark Lord at his Fortress.

"Like where?" I asked, anyway.

"Hogwarts, for instance. You could go and join the 7th years on their NEWTs preparation class..."

I shook my head negatively.

"I'm still far from rehabilitated," I reasoned. "I don't feel at ease with going to Hogwarts while I'm so weak."

I wondered about the Horcrux's influence on the Dark Magic intoxication. Perhaps I had been right, and the Dark Lord's presence did stabilise me.

"Is there a way for me to cohabit with Dark Magic without it affecting me?" I asked him.

"Well, there is a ritual you could do, but it would only force your Magic to remain Neutral no matter what, so it's not advised," he explained.

"You mean that my general allegiance to Magic would be immutable, or that I couldn't cast Dark or Light Magic?" I asked. The latter would be problematic, because it would prevent me from casting the Unforgivables and the most damaging grey curses I knew, but also the Patronus charm and my best Healing magic.

"The latter, I'm afraid. That's why no one really does it without good reasons. It is very limiting, as you probably realised. I would... recommend against taking such drastic action only to allow you to be in proximity with the Dark Lord," advised Severus cautiously.

I hummed distractedly in answer, thinking about it. If a ritual could limit Magic like that, chances were that if you messed up a step, you could end up blocking your Magic entirely. Despite what I had said to the Dark Lord about considering living in the Muggle World as an option, ever since I'd started to explore Magic for my own sake, and especially since I felt the magical trance, I could no longer say the same now. Magic was part of my identity; I couldn't give it up.

I wondered suddenly if there'd be a way to create wards that would either filter out the Dark from a home, or even that I could anchor to me to only filter it for me. I'd have to research the subject of Dark Magic intoxication and go to the essence of what made Dark Magic, dark and Light, light, but I might be unto something here. And I knew right where to start. Who could know Dark Magic better than the Dark Lord himself?

If Severus was right, and it wasn't the Horcrux that was causing the instability, then all my problems would be settled, and I wouldn't have to worry about passing time with the Dark Lord, or anything, really!

"Thank you for letting me know, Severus. I thought I was just going insane for no reason," I told him, sending him a wide smile. Life was looking up and I felt more energetic already. When I tried to get up by myself and failed, however, I realised that I was still far from rejuvenated.

Well, one step at a time and I'd be better soon enough.

.

Severus helped me get up and didn't comment when I leaned heavily on him after we Apparated back to Malfoy Manor.

"Harry, I have a question for you. Did Lucius talk to you about the paper planes he receives at the Ministry?" he asked.

"Not since the first time, no. Why? Do they still receive some? What do they say?" I asked, curious. However, I was too busy trying to remember the messages I had read to notice a small step in the door frame out of the entrance parlour. Severus caught me before I fell, but, as a result, I was very uncomfortably pressed against him. I was struggling to pick myself up when I heard a voice speaking up behind me.

"Well, isn't this a cosy sight?" the Dark Lord said nastily.

I started, unused to not being able to feel him approach in my weakened state.

Severus peeled himself off me instantly as if I had caught in fire. It would have been funny if he hadn't left me standing there in the middle of the corridor without anything to hold on. As it was, I was swaying uncertainly on my feet and trying to make my way to the nearest wall and while swearing against Severus in my head.

When I felt a firm hand steer me away from my course and pull me to a strong chest buzzing with familiar magic, I couldn't help but to sigh in relief. If I nuzzled against his neck like a kitten in need of attention, it was purely because of my exhausted state. And if I hummed in contentment when he curled an arm around me to hold me up, well...same reason, really. I had missed his closeness. When he'd come to talk to me, he'd always sit on a chair so far away from my bed. He might have done it to help me recover quicker, but I had decided that this felt too good to give up again. Besides, sleeping better at his side would help my recovery, right?

"...only because I know that you wouldn't be so stupid, Severus, but see to it that you keep your distance outside of your tutoring sessions," finished the Dark Lord. I had missed most of it because I was basking in his proximity.

"Of course, my Lord," said Snape like the good minion he was and he left us. Alone. At last.

I started kissing up his neck slowly until I reached his ear, on which I nibbled in what I hoped was a playful manner. I felt his grip tighten on me and he took a few steps until I was squeezed deliciously between him and the wall. Then his lips assaulted mine furiously and I had no more thoughts as I floated in a world in which only his smell, his taste, his voice and his body existed. I moaned in desperate approval when I felt his hands massage my butt firmly. It had been way too long.

But then my knees buckled and I slid to the ground until I was sitting.

At first, I was frustrated by the interruption, but then I realised that it brought his crotch at the height of my face. I couldn't help but to lean forward and nuzzle against it, breathing in the earthy smell and rubbing against the hardness I could feel through his dress pants. I lifted a hand to unbutton the trousers, but he caught it and kneeled down to my level. His ruby-red eyes were shining with lust.

"If you think I will let you tire yourself giving me a fellatio when I could be buried in your ass right now, you are clearly delusional," he declared, his voice low and dangerous.

Oh, dear gods of Magic. What did I do to get such a man as my lover?

As it was, I only whispered fervently:

"Oh, Morgana, yes!"

He had a smirk at my enthusiastic answer and suddenly picked me up and threw me over his shoulder as if I weighted nothing. Good thing I hadn't eaten in a while because it might have made me throw up on his back. As it was, I only shouted a vague protest. Who knew he was that strong physically? I might have lost a lot of weight in the last month, however. My arms flayed useless around until I realised that they were at the right level for a bit of fondling. I didn't protest when I felt one of his hands copying mine. Soon enough, I heard a door open and was thrown on a bouncy bed. I barely had time to notice the unfamiliar decoration before he assaulted me; the outside world disappeared again as I was caught in a whirlwind of passion.

And if I felt a slight sting when he entered me after a cursory preparation, I didn't complain because feeling him inside of me again after all this time was just bliss.

And if the rhythm was tiring and I felt my muscles protest at the strain, I didn't say anything because I never wanted him to stop.

And if his bites on my neck burnt and were probably on the brink of bleeding, I didn't tell him because it felt good to be branded his again and it would serve as a reminder of this moment in days to come when I would no doubt pay for the strain with yet another setback in my recovery.

And if a cry of sweet pain erupted from my chest as I climaxed harder than ever, I didn't have to tell him how much I had enjoyed myself because it was quite obvious, but I still did before I let myself fall into a deep, sated slumber.

.

* * *

Voilà! No cliffy this time! Hope you liked it!

Next update should come next week as usual, if everything goes well :)


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hi everyone! A new update, yay! Thank you to everyone who are supporting me! I've done a bit of planning for the rest of the story and am announcing that there should be around 55 chapters. Possibly more, depending on how I decide to split things between chapters, or if the "big finale" will be as humongous as I am currently planning it. It's coming up, though! Slowly, but surely! :)

To my guest reviewers:

FanFiction Lover: Oh...I hope you're feeling better by now! If not, get well soon! :)

Boblove321: I'm glad I convinced you to reread the Black Bunny. Not every chapter, or twist in a story can be pleasing for everyone. It would be too bad to put aside a story like that one for an unfortunate McDonald event ;) I am hoping that my readers think the same if they don't like an aspect of my story too ^^ About the last chapter, you're spot on! That's what I think as well. And yayy, more research! Not. Don't worry, I won't bore you all with the details of the research, just its consequences. ;)

dianadenisa: No, this isn't a Mpreg. Butttt...I'm actually touching the subject in this chapter. Read on and find out! ;)

Kumo: I find it a bit difficult to lurk at things anymore. Nowadays, it's all "open your computer, go on the internet" kind of lurking. Where has the good old "creeping around, trying not to get caught" gone? ;) On another subject, could you really see the Dark Lord taking care of Harry, pampering him? I think Harry wouldn't even let him anyway. He'd find it creepy or he'd be sure that the Dark Lord was mocking him. Or maybe not. You might like the beginning of this chapter. Just saying. :P

Summary of previous chapter: Severus took a weakened Harry to Godric's Hollow and told him about the Dark Magic slowly intoxicating him. Harry is confused, as he isn't sure of how his relationship with the Dark Lord, or even the presence of a Horcrux in his scar is reacting with this factor, but resolves to find a way to somehow filter out the Dark Magic and prevent it from affecting him. He is convinced he can both stay with Marvolo and the Malfoys, and keep his morals and sanity intact. But before he takes on this new research project, he needs to have a talk with the Dark Lord.

* * *

Chapter 47: 31st of January 1998: Discussions and advices

When I woke up, he was gone, unsurprisingly. He had, however, stayed for a while and maybe even slept at my side because I could feel some of his energy still gathered around the pillow next to mine. He had also, I noticed with a small warmth filling my heart, put me under the covers.

A smile dawned on my face at the thought.

Looking around at the room, I noticed it was sparsely furnished and adorned in green and silver. Was it his guest room in the Manor, then? It didn't look as if it was used often. And why would it be, after all, when he could just Apparate home every evening? It was probably more symbolical than practical.

I spotted some of my clothing lying on a chair next to the bed. Curtsy of one of the House-Elf, I supposed. They were still very loyal and affectionate with me, particularly since I gave them lot of work to do by being basically an invalid for so long. Sometimes I wondered if they would stoop so low as to prevent my recovery because it would mean less work for them, but then I would remind myself that I had passed too long in the company of a paranoid Dark Lord not to be slightly influenced by his tendencies. I wondered it he woke up each morning asking himself who would betray him or who was plotting against him that day. I wondered if he worried that I would do it too. It was a sad thought to have.

I sat up and dressed in silence, lost in my reflections about the Dark Lord's personality. With the last month of discussions, I was starting to feel like I had a better grasp of who he was and how he worked. The fact that he hadn't dropped me there or demeaned me for being weak and damaged had helped a lot.

I didn't like that he hadn't told me about the Dark Magic intoxication, but then again, maybe Snape was right and he thought, much like everybody else apparently, that I knew already. It was a bit of a far-fetched assumption to make, but it did make me feel better that he exiled me to Malfoy Manor for my own good, and not just because he didn't have the time to 'deal' with me.

It's only when I stood up to see if the Malfoys were there and promptly collapsed on the ground that I remembered that I was still in remission. Putting on my clothes had been so easy this time and I felt more energetic than usual. Was this a result of yesterday's short adventure outdoors, or of the Dark Lord's renewed proximity?

_One thing is sure_, I thought as I was picking myself up slowly, _I'm doing better. And if having sex with Marvolo is helping me recover, then, so help me Magic, I'll do it again sooner than later! _I concluded with a pleased smirk. Raging hormones didn't take much of a break for weakened teenagers, I had learnt.

I picked myself off the floor and reached the door with a tired sigh. What I wouldn't give to be able to just move around normally. Or, at least, to regain more quickly my magic. It had been too drained fighting for my survival that it had only flickered weakly for the past month. Today, it felt a bit stronger, thankfully.

I tentatively reached out for magical energies to determine whether Lucius or the Dark Lord were still there. I did have lots of things to talk to both of them.

When I caught a faint trail leading to Lucius' study, I steeled myself for the long corridors and started on my journey. I could do it. My muscles wouldn't become stronger if I didn't force them a bit, after all. Pain was necessary for recovery.

After a few feet, I took to lean heavily on the wall and slide forward on it. It was pathetic, really, but still better than what I could do yesterday, so I kept at it, gripping each door frame tightly when they passed and catching my breath.

At last, after longer than I thought, I arrived in front of the familiar wooden door. I smiled slightly bitterly when I compared how I had arrived at the Manor for the first time, tired, but standing strong, with how I was at the moment, panting in exhaustion and barely able to stay upright.

I took a deep breath not completely unlike the one I took before I first entered that room months ago, and knocked.

"Enter, Harry," I heard the Dark Lord answer.

"Harry? But, how did he leave his bed?" asked Lucius, confused.

I dragged myself inside with as much dignity as I could muster.

"With difficulty, I assure you," I answered Lucius, who looked like he didn't know what was more surprising, my dishevelled appearance or my presence in his study.

"I needed to talk to you both about something. Is this a good time?" I asked, dropping a look at the maps of France littering the desktop. What they had been talking about was obvious.

"Now would be acceptable," offered Marvolo oh so magnanimously. I shot him an amused look and he replied with a small wink at an angle that Lucius couldn't see. Yes, the last month had brought us closer, undoubtedly.

"Right, so. Yesterday, I talked with Severus and he told me about the whole Dark Magic intoxication situation," I explained. Lucius' eyebrows shot up in obvious surprise, but the Dark Lord was just watching me neutrally. I realised that I needed to play this well if I didn't want to tip Lucius off about the Horcrux situation.

"So, yeah, I was wondering about it because I had never heard of it before and I had this idea that maybe, there could be something I could do wards-wise to block the effect. For me to do so, though, I'd probably need to search in the library at the Fortress and study the nature of Dark and Light Magic itself, so I was wondering if you'd help me with that?" I asked Marvolo, who was now frowning considerately.

"Well, at least you didn't mention that idiotic ritual," he commented before answering my question. "I am quite busy at the moment, but I could direct your research better if you were to come back at my home. However, there is the distinct possibility that its ambient magic would harm your recovery."

I shook my head and glanced at Lucius who was looking at us curiously. I resolved to ignore him, for the moment.

"I feel much better today," I told the Dark Lord with a tone that was way too thick with hidden meaning to be anywhere near as subtle as I had wanted it to be.

He snorted at the obviousness of my meaning.

"One day of feeling better isn't conclusive evidence of having accelerated your recovery. You did also leave the Manor yesterday. That could have been the cause," he pointed out logically.

"Yes, well, I can isolate the different things I did yesterday and repeat them separately to determine what the decisive factor was if you want," I answered, liking where this conversation was going. Gods, I was such a teenager. Did I mention how much of a delicious sight he made today? Elegant and sober robes with an undertone of red in them contrasting with his pale skin and making the colour of his eyes even more obvious than before. Neatly combed dark brown hair and a large and strong hand passing through it slowly, sensuously. His every movement could entice desire in me, as far gone as I was. Then, I realised how unkempt and scruffy I must look compared to him today. I suddenly felt distinctively uncomfortable.

I rubbed the stubble on my chin slowly, wanting to make it appear as if I was thinking deeply about the issue, but just panicking inside at how horrendous I must look at the moment. I probably smelled too, from all the effort it took me to reach the study. When was the last time I showered?

"Right, you know what? You two seem busy at the moment. I'll just head back and see you later, right? I should take a nap, maybe a shower. The effort, the slow recovery and all that, you know?"

I didn't like how weak I sounded.

The Dark Lord snorted and I think Lucius even snickered at me.

"What?" I barked at Lucius, irritated, but knowing I probably wouldn't get away with shouting at the Dark Lord.

"Harry, you got in such a state to come here and talk to us, so focused on your task that you were. And now, you want to go back without finishing what you came for just because you look like you just stumbled out of bed to play a Quidditch match? Come on, now," he said, waving his wand at me. I felt the magic wash over me and freshen me up and I just closed my eyes, savouring the flavour of it. Magic was so scarce for me those days that any bit of it was welcomed, even if the need for it was a bit shameful.

I felt a spike of irritation and possessiveness come from our bond and I was suddenly surrounded with Marvolo's delicious Magic. I bit back a moan because Lucius was there, but Gods how good that felt!

When I opened my eyes, the Dark Lord was looking at me all smugly, as if he had discovered a new trick or a new weakness to exploit. Maybe he was just happy that I preferred his Magic over Lucius'. I thought that would have been obvious by now. I refocused on my task.

"Right, thanks for that, Lucius. Okay, so, let me think about it. Ah, yes, Lucius, I wanted to ask you about the paper planes. Severus told me yesterday that you still got some?"

Lucius' pleasant smile immediately froze and he adopted a neutral expression. Had he always been so obvious about his reactions or was it because I knew him well by now?

"Well, we did receive more after I asked you. Eight, to be precise, but they suddenly stopped after the raid on the Rebels, I'm afraid. I'm guessing that whoever was sending them didn't really approve of it and stopped giving us hints. They were so convoluted anyway, that even the Unspeakables couldn't make anything of it," he explained.

"Why didn't you ask me to have a look at them?

-It's hardly a relaxing endeavour..." he protested weakly.

"I've been bored out of my mind in the past month with only textbooks to read! Come on, Lucius! What's wrong?"

Lucius didn't answer back this time, only sitting stiffly in his chair, looking rigidly forward.

The Dark Lord looked particularly interested in knowing as well, since he narrowed his eyes and studied his Minister attentively. I wondered if he were worried that today would be the day he'd learn that his Minister had betrayed him. I dearly hoped not.

Lucius was clearly weighting what he would say next. I couldn't believe that he'd been hiding something from the Dark Lord like that, even if I was hardly a model of transparency myself. Hypocrite much, Harry? Well, at least, I was getting better with that. And then I realised that Marvolo had never seemed bothered by what I was hiding. He was just uncharacteristically patient with me on that issue. Or maybe he just knew everything I hid from him because I was rubbish at keeping secrets.

"Lucius?" I prompted. "Would it help if the Dark Lord was to leave the room?" I suggested uncertainly.

I felt Marvolo bristle at the suggestion and shot him a look to urge him to keep his calm, but, before I could say anything again, Lucius spoke at last.

"No, there is no need. I'm afraid I am rather ashamed of myself. I had a rash behaviour and there is a chance that I might have lost significant data about the rebellion," he revealed reluctantly.

"And pray tell, what you did, Lucius?" commanded the Dark Lord, anger obvious in his voice.

"It was at the time in which I kept receiving all the letters. I was so frustrated with the annoying things. They were resistant to all sorts of spells and always tended to retaliate when you tried to destroy them after reading them, so, well, one day, after a particularly tedious meeting with Unspeakables I had about the very messages, I arrived and saw a new one on my desk and just...shot an Incendio at it. And it burnt. To ashes. And I have no idea of what it said, even today," he confessed.

I furrowed in brow in thought.

"And you think that message was significant? The key to understanding the others?" I asked.

He shook his head guiltily.

"I have no idea. From what I can recall, it looked slightly different from the others. A different shade of purple, a different folding technique, a heavier look. Different spellwork, obviously, since it didn't survive the fire. I've just...thought about that thrice-accursed letter so often in the past months and just can't get it out of my head..." he trailed off. I had never heard Lucius sound more uncertain.

"Why haven't you gone back with a TIme-Turner to check the letter before you arrived to burn it?" said the Dark Lord, interrupting Lucius' guilty rant.

Lucius looked at his Master as if he'd never seen him.

"I, I, never thought of it, my Lord, but now, I'm afraid...

-Yes, yes, I am quite aware that it is much too late for this solution, Lucius. However, you do realise how easily this problem could have been settled had you just gone to ask for any of our help? Crouch was at the Ministry and could have thought of the Time-Turner. You were just coming from a meeting with Unspeakables. Even they could have helped you with your problem. But you took it on your shoulders, kept it for yourself and it's been eating you inside with guilt ever since. Such pathetic example of a leader you make these days, Lucius," accused the Dark Lord, harshly.

By then, I knew I probably looked like a fish with my jaw dropped and my eyes wide open, so I composed myself again and thought of how bewildering it was sometimes to see how Marvolo behaved with his servants and, well, anybody else but me, really. Was I that different for him? Did I have a certain influence on his actions? Maybe I would test this theory now.

I licked my lips and cleared my throat noisily.

"Yes, Harry, you have something to share with the class?" he asked snidely as if he knew what I was about to do and disapproved instantly. Maybe I wouldn't test the theory now, then. How well that man knew me sometimes, it was scary. He didn't know all of me, however, so I could still surprise him.

"I think that the plane Lucius burnt didn't come from the same person, and so, in theory, the messages should stand on their own, assuming that they have sent all they wanted us to have and that they didn't stop because of the raid. When was the last message, Lucius?" I asked, directing the discussion away from Lucius' mistake, because going head to head with the Dark Lord about the punishment of his minion was not something I wanted to do if he wasn't in a receptive mood. Not to mention that I didn't have authority on that at all. I just liked Lucius too much to stand by without attempting to help him out.

"The message I burnt arrived...on the 10th of December. The last of the others arrived some time before that; perhaps a few days. I think Rookwood, the Head of the Department of Mysteries, was the last to receive one. He was the one to suggest a team of Unspeakables on the question," he answered.

"Do you have the messages with you? I'd like to take a look at them," I told him.

"Certainly, I just have to go get them, they are in my office at the Ministry," answered Lucius, before getting up after getting a nod of consent from his Master. He left us alone in his study. We sat there in silence for a moment, before Marvolo spoke up.

"I find it particularly ironic that the Rebels trained you physically and in offensive Magic mostly and yet here you are, taking on one research project after another, developing wards and sharpening your logical mind on puzzles and enigmas," commented the Dark Lord neutrally.

"The way I see it, I don't want anything to do with their mission, so I'm purposely trying to improve myself in areas that have no relevance to my so-called 'Destiny'," I answered, unable to keep my contempt hidden at the last word.

Marvolo looked at me in silence, caressing his jaw slowly as if he was deep in thought.

"Ultimately, the goal behind their teaching is not that important. Just because they had an unsuitable target in mind when they trained you doesn't take away the fact that you have a well-rounded offensive profile and that one should always play with their strengths in a conflict," he said cryptically.

"I didn't think that I was in a conflict at the moment. I'm just trying to get better at things I like and find useful for my future outside of fighting and war.

-And if war were to come to your door, Harry, what would you do then? Would you try to contain your enemies with complex wards or elaborate strategies?" he suggested as if it was absurd.

I thought about it and knew I'd probably go straight in the battle and hex the Magic out of them. Or maybe use a blade and cut their wand hands or something. Wizards were particularly vulnerable to physical attacks, after all. Just as I thought of that, the urge to get my daggers out and practice with it overcame me. And how intricate and elegant it was to practice my martial art katas, how right it felt to be one with your Magic when you practised, meditated and reached a state of complete balance. That training had made me feel like someone who wielded power and controlled it perfectly. It had given me the strength and confidence needed to walk up to the freaking Dark Lord of Britain and challenge him to a duel to death and, as ridiculous as the idea had been, it had taken courage and a certain amount of recklessness that I hadn't exhibited in a long time.

"Good. When you start feeling better and your magic is stronger than now, we will begin training together," declared Marvolo categorically. It seemed like he could follow my thoughts as closely as if I had spoken them aloud.

I choked when I realised what he had said.

"Together?" I asked in a very manly voice that absolutely did not break.

He shot me a knowing smirk.

"Or what? Are you scared that I learn all of your little tricks?" he challenged, reminding me of my New Years resolution not to hide stuff like that from him again.

I shook my head negatively.

"No, I'm more worried you'll wipe the floor with my pathetic ass since I haven't trained in quite a while. You know, being poisoned and nearly dying tend to put a strain on a training schedule," I tried to pass off as casual.

"And before?" he asked knowingly.

"Before, I was caught in all the drama and before that, the wards training, and before that, my OWLs...I know. I have not been nearly as assiduous as I could have been ever since...well...ever since I realised that I really didn't want to fight against you," I confessed.

"I am not the only potential enemy out there, Harry. It would be a shame for such a talented fighter to lose his ability because of some pointless excuse," he warned while praising me, making me unable to protest and causing me to just redden uncomfortably at receiving such a compliment from him.

"I am not sure what you were thinking about then, but a minute ago, I saw you look more serene and peaceful than you have in a very long time. You might be able to content yourself with Wards and research, Harry, and as much as it pleases me that you are not "all brawn, no brains", you do not crave knowledge like I do and you do not find the same satisfaction in furthering magical theory. Fooling yourself into thinking that you do will not lead you to be a well-rounded individual, only a scattered one," he said, imparting the wisdom of his illustrious age. Damn, but sometimes he made me feel like a blubbering child. I took the advice in, despite feeling somewhat bewildered that he decided to give it to me now. Perhaps he had been waiting for me to come to the conclusion that I really missed being physically in shape to swoop in with his comment.

I nodded at him in thanks, recognising that he was right in his conclusion.

"I would love to train with you, Marvolo, even if I know you'll make sure to humiliate me to hammer your point in as often as possible," I replied, unable to resist the smartass comment.

He swatted the back of my head.

"Brat," he called me, but there was an unmistakable fondness to it that made me bite back a small smile.

"I still want to do the Dark Magic intoxication research, you know, though," I reminded him after a moment.

"I can't see why you would not, really. I just thought it was indicated that I remind you of the joys of a more...active lifestyle," he said with a leering grin.

"I'm definitely...up for it," I shot him back with my own eager grin.

He snorted at the bad pun.

"Not too tired then, after yesterday? Poor delicate specimen, I thought I had broken you considering the sounds you made," he teased mercilessly.

I groaned and buried my face in my hands at the reminder, before snapping back at him.

"You should try coming back from near death to see how energetic you feel afterwards!" I defended my pride.

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

"I already did," he stated, unimpressed.

What? When did he nearly died? And who had...ah. Me. He had disappeared for a few months while everybody celebrated his death, only to come back stronger and saner to take the Wizarding World by assault again, this time more strategically; exploiting all his advantages, making beneficial agreements with magical creatures, bribing one, discrediting another, silencing a third, etc. No one knew where he'd been gone in those months but, according to the Rebels, he had wandered aimlessly as a wraith before managing to gain back a body magically...and no one knew why he had survived...

"You used a Horcrux to gain back a body!" I exclaimed as realisation struck me.

"I feel I should retract my earlier comment about your intelligence if it took you that long to understand the purpose of the soul pieces," he commented with a neutral voice.

"But...how does it work then? Every time you die, you can call another Horcrux to you and reabsorb it and you have your body back?" I asked.

"Not exactly. Not two Horcruxes are the same and, of them, only one had the capacity to drain someone's life force and magic to create a new body in flesh. This is why I regained the body of my teenage self when I came back sixteen years ago. I did have help from Lucius to find an appropriate target to drain, however," he explained.

"Lucius helped you come back to life? Lucius had one of your Horcruxes?" I exclaimed, surprised. Well, that certainly explained the honoured position he received in the Ministry after the Dark Lord's Victory. Still, it surprised me that he had voluntarily given a piece of his soul to one of his minions. That showed quite a lot of trust...and then I remembered the Locket that the Dark Lord had given me for safekeeping and that I still had to return in its drawer in Grimmauld Place and I remembered the off-handed comment he'd made when he gave it to me. Something like: "if I ever needed it, somebody would have it and could take the appropriate steps".

"You said that only one Horcrux had the capacity to produce a whole new body...what do the others do, then? How could one...bring you back with them if they don't create a body with it?" I asked, not very subtly.

"They are various rituals for that, most of them much too Dark for you to even contemplate performing them, if that's what you are asking about. I doubt that it would come to that, however, but I left directions the appropriate people if it comes down to that. And, to answer your other question, the Horcruxes don't have specific powers; they simply have different characteristics. They are all pieces of my soul, of various sizes. The earliest it was created, the most powerful. The diary that Lucius used was my first, which is why it was stronger than the others. If I reunited with the Locket now, I don't think it would have much consequence. I feel quite stable with the youngest and the oldest shards of my soul in me. I suspect that your presence at my side has a calming effect partly because of the second oldest part of my soul that you host," he explained, being more open on the subject that I thought he'd be. Wasn't it quite weird to talk about fractions of souls as if they were pieces of his identity that he had thrown away and imprisoned in various objects that he scattered around Britain, or the world? It felt a bit awkward to me, at least.

Before I could ask more on the subject of what I was supposed to do to help him with a Horcrux if I couldn't bring him back to life or who had the required instructions, Lucius came back from the Ministry, a pile of paper in his hands.

"I decided to go get the originals from the Unspeakables, in case the charmwork would reveal anything," he said, placing the papers in front of me.

I picked one up, read it, remembered it was those weird animal metaphors again, placed it down, looked outside at the sun shining and wondered how long it had been since I last went out.

"Harry, why don't you take those papers with you back in your room. Lucius and I still have planning to do," he said, the dismissal clear in his voice. If he hadn't just spent the last fifteen minutes revealing extremely delicate information to me, I might have felt as if I was treated like a child. As it was, I just wanted to go and digest the information in the sun, if I could reach the outside patio, that is.

"The war is coming, isn't it?" I asked, because that was probably part of why he wanted me to be able to fight again and what they had to plan today.

"There has always been a war coming. The target is not completely unexpected either.

-France?" I asked, just to make sure, despite the maps' telling evidence.

He nodded seriously, before specifying:

"France first, and probably the Muggles right after, unless we can keep the fight with France underground and indirect enough to fool them. That's the only reason why there hasn't been an official declaration of hostilities by now," he told me.

I furrowed my brows, thinking about it.

"I think you're right. Didn't you say that the Rebels might have an international ally? If the French are the ones providing the Muggles weapons and so on, and if they don't get how horrible a war against Muggle technology would be, then maybe they want to play with your fear of an all-out against Muggles to weaken your position in the ICW and bring the war down on you on both fronts," I suggested, even if I knew that what I was saying was probably nothing new.

Lucius looked surprised, however.

"I hadn't thought of the link between the rebels and the French. Since the Yule attack on their camp, everything has been so calm on their side that it was as if they had disappeared from my mind," he commented.

"What did the interrogations with the remaining Rebels gave anyway? I suppose you did them when I was recuperating?" I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. I only hoped they hadn't been too harsh on them.

"It didn't reveal much, sadly, despite using Severus' handy new truth potion against Occlumens. The only one that knew slightly more was the Longbottom boy, but his comprehension of the facts was very muddled and we are left with nothing but conjunctures at this point," said Lucius.

That reminded me of something long overdue.

"As agreed upon before the raid, the Rebels who surrendered are my responsibility," I said cautiously. Both Slytherins narrowed their eyes at me suddenly, as if wondering what move I was about to pull.

"Are you denying me the right to interrogate them as I see fit?" asked the Dark Lord in a low voice.

I send him a small smile. He was always so quick to jump on the offensive.

"I could, since I think it was part of our agreement that I supervise them to make sure you wouldn't over do it. However, I also trust that you didn't forget about it, and that you wouldn't put yourself in a position where I could reproach you to not... fulfill your part of an agreement, considering what remains to be settled between us," I pointed out. I was pretty sure that Marvolo still kept the issue of the Honour's Duel at the back of his mind constantly when we were talking about delicate stuff. I thought that the point I brought up was valid. If I couldn't trust him with withholding his part of the deal in such a situation, how could I trust him in forfeiting the Duel?

For a moment, it looked as if he would be angry with me, but then, suddenly, he just threw his head back and laughed. Of a loud, deep, body-wracking laughter. It didn't last long, but, by the end of it, Lucius was also smiling indulgently at me.

"Oh, Lucius, I didn't think I would see the day when our little lion would try to put on a snake's skin. Did you hear him try to blackmail me?" he asked his Minister, who by now was chuckling at me too.

"Yes, my Lord, but, with all due respect, you encouraged it," remarked on Lucius.

"Oh, it was all part of my evil master plan, you understand," mocked the Dark Lord with a sardonic smile.

"I still found his performance somehow a bit lacking. Trying to suggest a behaviour by saying that you trust them to do something is such a typical strategy," commented Lucius.

"There is still much progress to do on the execution, I agree. But the thought was there, and with minimal effort on my part, I assure you," said Marvolo.

During their exchange, I just sat there, dumbfounded. Were they just...laughing at me? Both of them? And why? Because I had attempted to be vaguely cunning in how I presented my arguments?

I wanted to be insulted, but it was just so plain unexpected that I started to find it a bit funny too. What had I been going for? Subtlety? Cunning? With the Dark Lord?

_Oh well_, I shrugged mentally. _I tried._

I coughed pointedly in a mocking imitation of Umbridge that made Lucius stiffen immediately. _Good_, I thought vindictively.

"My point, before you two start laughing at me again, is that I want to take responsibility for the Rebels captured, as we agreed upon beforehand, but that, while I do want to do something for them, I haven't recovered enough yet to go there and have extensive meetings with you and them to determine an eventual plan of social reinsertion and so on. I know someone, though, who I think could do it for me. I think it's time I put away old grudges I held against him and recognise that he's as trustworthy as they can get," I explained.

"Longbottom, I suppose," guessed the Dark Lord.

I nodded in answer.

"Is he also going to be your contact within the Weasley clan?" he asked, perceptive as always.

"I was getting to that," I answered. "I think that they are still dangerous. Personally, I also don't want to go back there in my current state, but I feel like tensions are running too high in their group at the moment to leave it stew for a month or so until I'm back at normal speed."

Marvolo sat back on his seat, visibly satisfied that he didn't have to convince me not to go back there. I knew he learnt of the Veritaserum incident when I was poisoned, and he wasn't willing to let me go back there as easily now. As possessive as he sometimes was, I was surprised that I didn't have to talk him out of handing in severe punishments for what happened. Perhaps he had more important things to deal with, with the war brewing and his preparations, after all.

"Where would the boy stay?" asked Lucius, interjecting in our discussion.

I frowned and thought for a moment. Remus' name came up in my head and refused to allow space for any other. I hadn't talked to him for quite a while, though. Maybe he would be happier if he got Neville to live with him instead of having to tutor me all the time. Those two were a lot more alike that I could ever be, I thought with a pang of envy.

I swallowed thickly.

"At Remus' place, I guess. He has a spare room, or at least, he used to have. He told me so, a few months ago," I told them, choosing not to address the fact that I hadn't taken him up on his offer or even ever gone to visit him outside of a tutoring environment. If it occurred to them, the two men didn't comment on it either, thankfully.

"I don't have a problem with it, but I will send someone to speak with Longbottom beforehand. To make sure he has...his facts straight on what is and isn't tolerated in my government," decided the Dark Lord.

I nodded distractedly, gathering up the papers in front of me.

The silence hung for a few seconds more before I felt like I had outgrown my welcome.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Good luck with your planning," I wished them, extirpating myself from the comfy chair with difficulty and walking as normally as I could to the door, but ending up limping so much that I was nearly hopping. It was pretty pathetic.

But, by the Gods of Nature, if the Dark Lord had managed to get back on his feet after getting a whole body transplant, I'd be able to do it after being poisoned.

.

I was trudging up the corridor leading to the terrace, anticipating the sun eagerly, when I heard a gleeful cackle behind me.

Great. Bellatrix. Just what I needed right now.

"Ohhhh, itsy bitsy Potty is out of bed! What is he doing here all alone? Did he try to go see Aunty Bella?" she cooed, skipping over to stand in my way. Bellatrix had been, for the most part, obnoxiously happy since learning of her sister's pregnancy, and was at Malfoy Manor more often than not those days. What bothered me the most about it was that she seemed to find me cute and harmless now because I was weak from the poison. I'd take back the old animosity between us any day if it meant that she stopped treating me like a child.

"Bella, why don't you help Harry along? He seemed to be heading to the sun like us, unless I am mistaken?" asked Narcissa who glided along serenely despite the growing bulge of her stomach.

I felt my face grow red when Bellatrix, who was half a head shorter than me, pulled me strongly to her side and supported my weight with an iron grip. I didn't protest, however, because she was too insane to reason with, and because she was, ultimately, bringing me to my desired destination.

Once settled on a patio chair, lying down as I caught my breath, I felt at last the sun kiss my skin for the first time in a month. It had only weak winter rays, but just being outside again helped. The warming charms on the terrace kept the cold at bay.

I turned to Narcissa.

"How far along are you now?" I asked, to start the conversation before the awkward silence settled in.

"My due date is at the end of April, but Draco was born prematurely, so we are prepared for it to happen earlier than planned," she answered.

"There's really a link? If one is born before the due date, the others will as well?" I asked, revealing my lack of knowledge on the subject. Being a young gay man, and in an unstable, dangerous situation myself, I had never really given much thought about pregnancies or babies.

"No, not necessarily, but premature births are very common with the Blacks. Family lore tells us of a Lord Black a few centuries back who couldn't wait to have his heir and forced his wife to give birth before time. The story says that, since then, all Black children have been born prematurely.

-What kind of an asshole forces his wife to give birth before the baby is ready?" I exclaimed, disgusted.

Narcissa just shrugged indifferently.

"It's only a legend to explain a peculiar phenomenon. I retain from it that I will probably have an early birthing and Draco's seemed to support this theory," she said.

Bellatrix, who had stayed strangely mute during the exchange, spoke up with a strange voice full of grief and regret.

"I understand why that Lord Black took this decision. Something or someone must have threatened the baby, and he wanted to have it safe in his arms and take care of it by himself. Perhaps if it hadn't been so early in the pregnancy, I..." she trailed off, her eyes unseeing. Narcissa's baby was having a peculiar effect on her, sometimes making her ecstatic, and other times bringing her back to her own past and giving her nostalgic moods and guilty thoughts. I never knew how to react when it happened, and Narcissa only looked at her sister with commiseration.

I cleared my throat.

"So, did you think about names yet?" I asked, making Bellatrix gasp in shock for an unknown reason.

Narcissa shook her head.

"In the Old Families, it is considered bad luck to speak the name of the child before it is born. I will only say that Lucius has agreed to a Black name for his daughter and that I have chosen my favourite already," she informed me.

"By 'a Black name', you mean, a star name like Sirius and Bellatrix, or a constellation like Andromeda and Orion?" I asked, curious, wondering about the traditions Sirius had barely mentioned when I was living with him.

Bellatrix hissed nastily in answer.

"Stop asking questions! Do you wish to bring misfortune on the poor baby?" she accused nastily.

"Sorry, I didn't think it would do anything to give a hint," I apologised, knowing that faiths and beliefs were somewhat of a delicate subject in the Wizarding World. What you believed in was often in function of the family in which you grew up. That partly explained the adoption and 'patronage' program the Dark Lord had set up for the Muggleborns. If they believed in the same deities and forces than us, they were less likely to annoy the Purebloods and more likely to be integrated in our society, after all. At the Rebel Camp, I had grown up in a patchwork of beliefs that sometimes made me commit faux pas with old Pureblood families like now.

A House Elf appeared just when I realised that my throat was parched with all the effort it took to reach this place and I thanked it sincerely for bringing me a nice glass of fresh fruit juice.

"What about you, Harry? Do you foresee any children in the coming years?" asked Narcissa with a small smile on her pale face just as I was taking a big gulp of juice.

The absurd question surprised me so much that I coughed and choked on my juice, hovering between vomiting it or passing out of lack of oxygen for a moment before I could gulp it down and breathe again.

"Er, Narcissa, you do know whom I'm seeing at the moment, right?" I asked. She couldn't have missed it, surely?

"Of course, Harry, don't be ridiculous. That is precisely why I ask the question. Our Lord needs heirs. It is primordial that the Slytherin bloodline continues after him. Too many illustrious families have already been lost," she commented as if she hadn't asked the most ridiculous question I had ever heard.

"Right. I'm sure I can take a few gender-changing Potions and undergo some procedures to make myself a girl, and then maybe, Magic be willing, I'll be able to pop out kids for the Dark Lord," I said sarcastically.

Narcissa had a refined huff of frustration, as if I was being unreasonable.

"You know very well that a surrogate mother can be used in situations such as yours," she pointed out delicately.

"Don't you think that if he wanted heirs so badly, he'd already have used a surrogate mother, or donated sperm or something?" I replied. Seriously though, I had been with Marvolo for what? 6 months? And she was asking me the baby question?

"Watch your tone, Potter. I won't tolerate anyone disrespecting my Lord," warned Bellatrix.

What? I hadn't been disrespectful, this time. Or maybe making a baby with a sperm bank was considered...inappropriate in the Old Families? It wouldn't be the first time I'd learn of such customs way too late.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, but my objection is valid. If he really wanted heirs, he would have had them by this point," I pointed out logically.

Bellatrix scoffed but stayed silent. Narcissa had a sad smile.

"Perhaps he just hadn't found the right person until now," she suggested.

"Come on now. He's 71. You can't serve me some rubbish like 'he was waiting for you all his life'. I'm not that special. And I've been with the guy for maximum 6 months. Don't you think it's a bit early to talk about babies?

-On the contrary, I think it is quite revealing that in his long life, as far as we know it, our Lord has never gotten closer to someone else as he had with you. And, as you point out, after all those years, it is time for him to settle down and start a family, I would think, even if he still has at least a century to live, Magic permits," she said, touching her wand briefly to ward off bad spirits at the mention of a potential premature death for him.

I wasn't sure whether I should feel exasperated, or strangely touched by what Narcissa had said. It was the first time I had ever heard anybody refer to my relationship with the Dark Lord as a long-term, durable connection.

"I wouldn't want my children to be born in times of war," I declared, thinking of my situation. "I don't want them to potentially grow up as orphans because their parents were casualties of war."

Narcissa paused, placing a hand on her swollen belly. I felt bad for saying that when she was pregnant and would probably have a very young child during the upcoming war.

"Let me tell you something, Harry. You can never know when wars are going to start or finish. You can never completely plan your personal life in function of what will happen to the rest of the world. Of course, all parents want to give their children a peaceful world to grow up in, but you can never control those things. All you can do is try to offer them a stable and safe environment to grow up in to the best of your ability. You see, when I had Draco, war was still waging out there and it went on until he was four years old. However, he doesn't remember living through a war now, despite Lucius having been right in the thick of it. He grew up in peace, despite the climate in which he was born. And yes, it might not have been ideal, but looking at my son today, I know it was worth all the stress and the worrying for his safety. And I think it will be the same for my daughter," she said while rubbing her stomach affectionately. How I ever thought the woman cold and emotionless was a mystery.

Bellatrix, who had stayed quiet when her sister was speaking, suddenly got up and left. I frowned at her behaviour, wondering what had caused it, but Narcissa spoke up again.

"My sister and you are prime examples of why having children in times of war can lead to horrible situations. All I intend to do here is to bring a more nuanced perspective on the question. Take your time with our Lord, just don't discard the possibility because of your preconceived notions of what he wants. Perhaps he will surprise you. Lucius certainly did when he told me he wanted another child after 17 years," she advised.

Great. I ventured out of my room by myself for the first time in a month and I got two research projects, a promise of training with probably the most powerful wizard alive at the moment, a looming war and babies, of all things, to think about as a result.

The world outside my bedroom sure was a fascinating place.

.

o0o0o

The old wizard was standing before the tomb of his friend, reminiscing for a moment the good old times when they were fighting side by side to preserve the Light and when people understood that the measures they took were necessary for the Greater Good.

He didn't have to hide out like a criminal then; he could stride in the Ministry with his flaming red robes and the population would cheer for him, knowing that he was one of their bests, knowing that they could rely on him and sleep with both eyes closed...

The stone was modest. A simple round thing, lying on the ground beside others of the Dumbledore family. Only Albeforth remained of that noble lineage now. Good old Albeforth and his unhealthy attraction for goats. Catch him once in the act and you can hold that threat above his head for the rest of his life. Not that he personally cared about what the old man was doing with his livestock. Better animals than children, he always said, back in the days when he was part of the Auror force. Nobody laughed when he made that joke, for some reason.

The stone was grey, and of obviously bad quality. How ironic that this would be the resting place of one of the greatest wizards of the century. Moody had personally thought that, after the death of his old friend, the snake bastard would have made a monument celebrating his victory and Albus's defeat. He had counted on having to bear the sight of Riddle's gloating. He couldn't help but feel disappointed at what he saw. There was no acknowledgment of how fierce an enemy of the Dark regime Albus had been. No acknowledgment that he had nearly borne the weight of the old Ministry on his shoulders alone and that his death had meant the fall of the all the rest and the defeat of the Light.

This was a grave like all others. Utterly forgettable. There was only a passing mention of Albus' tenure as Headmaster of Hogwarts and also the inscription _Minister per interim, 1981-1984. _What a joke. Albus deserved so much more than this. If Riddle had put on a mandatory "Spit on Dumbledore's Monument Day", it would still have recognised his importance better than this.

And the worst is that Riddle's plan had worked. The Wizarding population today were not angry at Albus' role in History, or even at the Light. It was merely seen as a thing of the past. There had been no brainwashing, no propaganda against the old regime, only for the new one. People were forgetting that their world had ever been different. The only thing that remained was the vague impression that they were better off today than they had been before. The economy was booming; Britain was once more a pole of Magical Research and a pioneer in Mind Healing and education; They had had more than a decade of peace.

The whole thing was sickening. Just like Riddle's benevolent image was. And the sheep were accepting this, simply because the snake bastard wasn't sitting on a throne made of the skulls of his enemies and making volcanoes erupt everywhere. Should they also be grateful to him because he let the sun shine outside, now?

No, this was ridiculous. He had to be stopped.

"Albus, old friend, it's up to me to finish the task you'd set for yourself. I only wish you'd have shared your burden with me when you were still alive. I could've settled things much more easily then," he grumbled in the direction of the stone, even if he knew that his friend had passed on to join the Magic many years ago.

"I'm sorry, Albus, but it must be done," he added, before twirling his wand in an intricate pattern. Slowly, the weather-beaten stone lifted in the air and was put aside. A putrid stench rose to his apt nose, but he bore it with only a sneer. He began to slowly dismantle the new wards his action revealed.

The good thing with psychopathic Dark Lords is that they never learnt from their mistakes. Choosing an inconspicuous spot for hiding one's soul pieces was clever enough, but not when the significant location you chose comes from a well-known piece of your history. Granted, it had taken Moody years to even consider Albus' tomb as a potential site for a Horcrux, simply because it was so...obvious. According to his research, a Horcrux was not only difficult to create, but also to hide. You had to choose places that were significant enough for the piece you shattered to feel at ease there, or else, you would feel discomfort and a relentless itch until you changed it to an appropriate location.

To say that Moody had been overjoyed when he learnt that particular piece of information in Albus' notes was an understatement. It made his task a lot easier than if some of the Horcruxes could have been hiding, for instance, in a box meters deep in the sand of a desert that had absolutely no link with his enemy. Or even in a hidden cave in the middle of a mountain somewhere in Scotland.

Still, the location could be of particular importance to someone without having been the theater of a significant event in one's life. What if the Dark Lord had been an avid apple eater in his youth and had dreamt of one day going to an orchard in the other side of town? Then, perhaps the place would have retained a particular importance to him because it would have been the first example of something he had ardently wished for and finally obtained. Perhaps even that any orchard could have done. Nobody could have ever guessed or found that location if that had been the case.

But well, bless Magic for the snake face's predictability, he thought as he slashed his wand downwards with finality and the wards crashed around him. The other advantage of Riddle having chosen an inconspicuous public location was that he couldn't keep dangerous guardians to protect his treasure like the Inferi in that thrice blasted cave. He had lost a good man that day, and that family had never been the same afterwards, although that could also be attributed to his botched memory charms. He had never been the best at memory modification anyway.

He mentally shrugged as he focused back on his task. He eyed the rests of his friend with distaste and searched for the Horcrux.

There! He recognised the old Gaunt ring his men had failed to retrieve about a year ago. The snake bastard had placed it on Albus' ring finger, in a parody of a Muggle bonding band. In Albus' right hand was his old wand. It was considered a sign a respect to bury a wizard with his wand. It was an acknowledgment in itself that Riddle had chosen Albus' grave to hide a fragment of his soul, but if he also let him keep his wand, it meant that Riddle was at least willing to recognise Albus' strength.

_One point for the snake bastard, I guess,_ thought Moody.

Always vigilant, he took all the precautions in the world to disable alarms, curses, hexes and even checked for Muggle explosives (a weapon with which he was getting increasingly comfortable, thankfully), he finally had the ring Horcrux in his possession. That is to say, in a completely isolated container where it's perverse magic wouldn't enter in contact with his for even a second.

He went to leave the grave and repower the wards when his magical eye caught sight of Albus's wand again. He was just a kid when Albus defeated Grindelwald, but he remembered that this wand had belonged to the old Dark Lord before. Why would Albus have taken it for his own, if it didn't have incredible value? Perhaps it was particularly powerful, in which case it would be quite useful for his noble quest.

As it so happened, he knew just the wizard to answer his questions. Moody had been planning to pass by and say hello for a while, after all, and this would be the perfect pretext.

Always vigilant, the old auror disabled any remaining curse around the wand and snatched it up, immediately feeling that it was a very special wand indeed. The only problem, however, was that it felt strangely cold in his palm. Maybe the wizard will have an explanation about that as well.

Moody carefully re-powered the wards and Disapparated from the graveyard with a twist and a popping sound.

Now, about that snake...

* * *

...

That wasn't a cliffy, was it?

So, lots of subjects in this chapter: Harry's ward research, the imminent war with France, the previously forgotten paper planes, Neville and Remus, the future of Harry and the Dark Lord's relationship and babies, of all things. And then, as if it wasn't enough, grave-robbery!

Next chapter should be pretty interesting because there will be...a fight! *gasp*

Thank you in advance for reviewing and letting me know what you thought of this chapter! :D


	48. Chapter 48

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hi everyone! Last chapter didn't get as many reactions as I hoped to get, sadly. My dear readers and reviewers, please don't let me down so close to the end! I need your support to push me to finish this story! *puppy eyes*

Cherrie-san: Good point. Marvolo's explosive temper wouldn't work well with annoying and needy children. Hopefully, if it comes to that (because who knows how this story will end?), Harry will be there to calm everybody down...^^'

Kumo: There were actually lots of wards and traps in the grave, but it was limited because of its public location and Moody deactivated the whole thing. I just didn't want to pass a long time showing everything he did in preparation to his attempt, but what we saw is just the last bit when he did manage to gain access to the tomb. Hehe, I loved your *awkward put under covers tender moment* It does describe it well :D

Summary of previous chapter: Moody is up to some shady grave-digging, Harry takes up his new ward research project to block the Dark Magic intoxication, war with France is brewing and the paper planes made a comeback in the story.

* * *

Chapter 48: 20th of February 1998: Getting better before getting worse

_Greetings, militants acting illegally under my regime,_

_It has come to my recent attention that your movement might not be as grateful as I expected it to be for my generosity in allowing it to pursue its course. It has also failed to fulfill the role I allocated it._

_Do not be surprised by this. The _raison d'être _of your group happens to concord with the direction I want Britain to take in the future. You have rightfully put a finger on two major issues I am working on eradicating; that is, the corruption and nepotism in the Ministry, and the inequality of treatment between my citizens. I let you push for your new legislations and win your cases when I felt you were in the right. As you can see, I am not unreasonable. I recognise that there are still major flaws in the current government system and seek to resolve them, with your help. I only wish for a safer and stronger Britain and, if my methods sometimes differ from yours, it does not mean that compromises cannot be found, or that our points of views are irreconcilable. _

_Alas, despite how promising your movement might or might not be, I am afraid I simply cannot let behaviours such as the one that threatened the life of my young companion run unchecked. As it is, poor Harry is still very much affected by his short contact with members of your organisation. Administration of any potentially lethal poison, regardless of the poison's side effects when absorbed in minimal quantities (truth-saying, in this precise case), is strictly prohibited by anyone except the Aurors in an official investigation or by anyone with the authorisation of the higher echelons of the Ministry. _

_These are, indeed, dangerous waters you are threading in, and I find my patience and understanding with your movement dwindling and nearing an end. Unless, that is, you can swiftly convince me that you are repentant of your, I am sure, brief forays in illegality. _

_It has not escaped my notice that your movement hosts many former members of the Rebellion. I was, at first, pleased with your group facilitating their rehabilitation in society. With the recent developments, however, I find myself wondering if the pardons I had so gracefully granted to them had not been too lenient. Perhaps I should have chosen for them the Dementor's Kiss, as was the usual punishment for capital treason in the old Ministry._

_If you want to prove me your good will, Bill Weasley, you will hold your companions in a tighter leash from now on, or I will have no choice but to change my mind about the former Rebels. In these days of rising international tensions, one cannot fault me for making sure that my realm is not rotten from the inside. Incidentally, I would like to point out that your loyalties would not be put in question anymore, should you and your comrades choose to join the militia for the defense of our beautiful country. It would beneficiate greatly from your talents, I am sure. While well advanced, the recruitment is going slower than expected. Perhaps that, with the contribution of your group and the solicitation that you will most likely do in your circles, the imposition of a conscription will not be as necessary as we feared. I am sure you can see how this arrangement would be beneficial for everyone involved. _

_You have one week to discuss among yourselves and reach a decision. I can only grant so many exceptions to the law for members of my 'opposition' if I seek to make my regime fairer, after all._

_Please communicate my most gracious salutations to the daughters of the French Ambassador residing with you,_

_Lord Voldemort, Supreme Leader of Wizarding Britain_

o0o0o

20th of February 1998, Slytherin Fortress

Time had passed and I was doing better every day, particularly so since I had moved back in with the Dark Lord.

I was now able to walk around normally, even if my one attempt at jogging had left me panting and nearly passing out a few dozen meters away from the Dark Lord's Fortress. I was taking things slowly, but balancing my time very carefully between my research on Neutralising wards, meditation and physical exercises and a tentative return to magical manipulation. I had dropped the idea of taking my NEWTs. I'd do that later when I had more time. I hadn't seen, or talked to Remus since our heated discussion about a month ago. I missed him, but I still felt somewhat cold about him giving information to Bill's group about me. And, speaking of them, I hadn't gone to a meeting there yet either. I had made arrangements for Neville to go there instead, and, as far as I could tell from his reports, everything was fine at the EFA meetings. Their efforts at the moment were focused on trying to prevent a conscription from being put in place preventively. When I had asked Marvolo if he really wanted to do that, he hadn't really been forthcoming, but he did say that he was using the rumours to his advantage to fast-forward war preparations by passing all sorts of regulations facilitating the growth of his militia. I wasn't implicated in the process, but I saw enough papers passing that I had an idea of how colossal the preparations were. Recruiting, training, building protections. Britain had never been has tightly fortified against an attack that today. From the limited History I knew, there hadn't been much international wars either, in great part because of Apparition and Portkey limits, but also because the different countries had a distinct type of ambient Magic that was grounded in their soil. Using your Magic in another country wasn't impossible, but it was distinctively harder and required more concentration and effort than in your homeland. I had personally never tried, but Marvolo had travelled around a lot when he was younger and he sometimes spoke of his experiences in the ancient wizarding communities around the Mediterranean Sea and in Asia and it was fascinating. We had even tentatively spoke of a potential trip in Greece for the summer and I quite liked having long term projects with him. It gave me the impression that we were building something durable, despite the multitude of factors against us. Not to mention that this was a good incentive to get better quicker.

One thing I had tried to implement ever since I had recovered some of my former strength was to go out more often and to try to go to magically Neutral places; like Hogwarts, for instance. I hadn't gone to classes or met any of the student there, but I had gone to Snape's office to discuss my warding project after the Dark Lord pointed out that Potions would probably support the wards, give them a more permanent state that wouldn't tire me to hold up and adapt it to me personally. And Snape, of course, was brilliant at what he did and easier to talk to when he wasn't attempting to teach me Potions.

.

That day, it was the third time I'd gone to Hogwarts to work on the warding project. I was a bit early, but I didn't have time to start anything in the half-hour remaining, so I just thought I'd go ahead and Floo in now, even if it meant that I'd wait for him to finish what he was doing before we could start. I could always re-read my notes again in the meanwhile.

When I stepped out of the Floo in Snape's office, however, I realised immediately that it was a bad idea. Snape had visitors; three students; three girls, to be more specific; one blond, one brown-haired and one redhead. Who would all know who I was, probably. I just hoped this wouldn't turn into a confrontation.

The Headmaster looked quite surprised to see me so soon, and not a little grim. I felt like a bird of ill omen, with the way he looked at me.

The brown-haired girl on the left turned around and she shot me a short disapproving glance before looking back at Snape.

"Don't you have to approve the incoming calls and people before they can arrive or see in your office, Headmaster? It certainly is that way at my adoptive family's home," she said primly. Who the heck did she think she was, telling Snape what his Floo should or shouldn't do?

Snape had a resigned sigh.

"Normally yes, but not when the person in question comes from the Dark Lord's Fortress," he answered in a weary voice.

The girl gasped and turned around to look at me again.

"Merlin's beard! You're Harry Potter!" She exclaimed. I couldn't tell if her reaction was positive or not.

Well, that was quick. The two other girls turned to look at me with widened eyes. The blond one looked familiar, but I couldn't replace her.

"What gave it away?" I shot back sarcastically, a bit annoyed, while I made my way to Snape's side and dropped my backpack next to his desk.

Then I couldn't stop a teasing grin from taking over my face.

"Popular with the ladies, Snape? Is that why you look so worried? Is there something...illicit going on here?" I asked him, unable to help myself. Months of teasing with a Dark Lord tended to have this effect on me.

I didn't like the faces of revulsion that took over the brown-haired girl and the redhead who looked vaguely familiar too. Sure, Severus wasn't the most handsome specimen of man on the planet, but there was a certain mature charm and confidant strength to him that made him attractive, in a way. And this disgust in their face was disrespecting a man that I had come to appreciate, so I didn't feel very keen to the two girls at the moment. The third was looking vaguely to the ceiling, or to something floating around, her eyes following some invisible movement. I focused my magical sight, which had returned to me sometime in the last two weeks with the bulk of my magic, and saw strange spots of light coming from the ceiling. What were they?

"They're Nargles. Hogwarts is infested with them, I'm afraid," I heard the blond girl answer in a dreamy voice. Apparently, I must have asked my question out loud. I looked back down at her to ask her what Nargles were and stopped short of gasping at the pure white aura that surrounded her. Now I knew when I'd see her. She was the girl that had looked supportive at the Ministry Ball when the news came out that I was the Dark Lord's lover. I didn't have the chance to go talk to her then because I had been distracted by Marvolo and she had gone home early, but here she was now. With the same pure white light surrounding her. It was even more beautiful from up close.

"You have darkened a bit since then," she said in an eerie voice.

"I know. It was inevitable. But I'm working on it now," I answered vaguely. Somehow, I knew she'd be able to follow without context.

"It suits you, I think," she declared with a small smile.

"Thank you. So does yours. I've never met someone so pure," came out of my mouth next. The other people in the room looked incredibly disturbed by our conversation, but it was too fascinating to stop.

The blond girl suddenly started laughing hard and rocking backwards and forwards while tears streamed from her prominent eyes.

"How very special of you...to assume that...Light means purity," she commented at last, choking out the words between two laughs.

Interesting. I never had linked anything between the colour of one's magical energy and their allegiance, apart for a general tendency for Dark people to have darker shades of magic.

I turned my sight on the two other girls, wondering how the magic of normal people of my age looked like.

The brown-haired girl's was a weird shade of orange that I could only described as 'Chuddley Cannons orange', while the redheaded girl's was...very peculiar. It was as if the normal colour, which was pale green, was warring with dark blue magic incredibly similar with the Dark Lord's. I narrowed my eyes, trying to look at it in detail, but I was distracted by the girl's intense blush. Right, the sudden scrutiny must have been a bit peculiar.

I forced my eyes away from her and looked back at Snape's forest green energy, shaking my head to stop focusing on the magic. He looked marginally more relaxed now, but still leery of what could happen. There was something about those three girls meeting me that put him ill at ease. I had hit too close to home when I said that there was something illicit going on. Only, it had nothing to do with the fact that they were girls and more with who those girls were.

I observed them, trying to ascertain their identity.

The brown-haired girl looked disbelievingly between the blond girl and me. She clearly couldn't follow our discussion and wasn't used to be left out of the loop. That, combined with her attitude when I arrived and with her slightly prominent front teeth, revealed to me her identity. Hermione Macmillan. The loud Muggleborn that Draco kept complaining about: the Know-it-all who refused to forget her Muggle origins and went up against the established order as often as she could. From Draco's tale, I had gotten a sense that she and I would have gotten along fairly well at one point. I had the same defying attitude, after all, but her lack of modesty was putting me off. Here was a girl who was brilliant and knew she was. She was darting her intelligent eyes around, as if hoping to understand the secrets in every nook and crannies she could find. She had no restraint in her tone. She thought she was entitled to all the knowledge everybody could give her and wouldn't be grateful to the magical world after she was done with her studies. She would think it was her right to be taught centuries of careful exploration of the nature of Magic and spells and not a privilege.

Where I tended to be self-righteous, she was self-absorbed. Admittedly, Draco's negative assessment of her was biasing my opinion of her already.

I moved on to the redhead. All the redheads I had met so far outside of the Camp were Weasleys. This one also looked fairly similar to Bill, in a way. Was the warring magic I had felt in her earlier a result of her early torture by the Dark Lord? The concept put me ill at ease. Could it really have made that much of an impact on her Magic all those years later? I moved closer to her, stretching a hand forward to reach for her magic. The girl blushed again, but cringed slightly when our magic touched. I vaguely heard Hermione protest at my closeness, but I was too busy examining how the Dark Lord's magical residue was reacting to mine. It seemed to be attracted to it and to gather around my hand, as if trying to re-join with mine.

I wondered if I could make the transfer. My recent forays in magical theory left me more aware of how magical signatures worked and how magic was linked to a person. I wondered if I was playing with the girl's sanity just by being close to her. I looked down at her, she was leaning toward me, close to putting her head on my stomach. She seemed to sense my gaze, because she lifted hazel eyes to me that were full of questions I couldn't answer. And then, she whispered: "Do it." and closed her eyes, at my mercy.

It baffled me that she would put that much trust in my hands when she had never met me before.

"It might hurt a lot. You might even become a Squib," I warned her, growing worried on her behalf.

"If I'm free from the stain, it will be worth it," she said. I swallowed and looked back at Snape hesitantly. His face was grave.

"Potter, she's struggling to do basis spells and looses control of her magic at least once a month, endangering everybody around in her crises. If you can help her, do it," he said, nodding, effectively putting himself as the responsible body here.

"I don't know what you're planning on doing, but Ginny is not 17 yet, so you need parental consent before you do anything to her that could be life-threatening..." started Hermione brazenly, before Snape interrupted her.

"She is a student at Hogwarts and, as such, I can act _in loco parentis_ for this occasion.

-WHAT? But the law stipulates that you only have the power to do so if the parents can't be reached or if the decision cannot wait for them to give their consent and I hardly think that whatever he's trying to do warrants...

-Miss Macmillan!" interrupted an irate Snape. "You do not know everything at stake here. You cannot see or comprehend what is happening. If Harry pulls away now, as deep as he is in her Magic at the moment, it could have catastrophic consequences on your friend. It is a drastic circumstance and now kindly refrain from interrupting or I will bind you in a corner and silence you. Understood?" Woah. Efficient pedagogy methods, Snape.

I turned back to Ginny's face, which was beseeching me to continue whatever I was doing. I felt helpless. I wasn't a Mind Healer, Merlin's soggiest underpants!

The nargles girl just smiled at me in encouragement before she went to stand behind Hermione.

I swallowed and breathed deeply. I couldn't turn back, Snape had said, not without damaging her more than she was.

I looked at the magical residue. It had wrapped itself around my still stretched hand. If I could just...wrap my magic around it and isolate it until it was only hanging with a thread to Ginny's magic, then maybe it would not cause too much damage to her magic to sever it off? But magic was not something tangible and you couldn't just 'cut it off'...

I tried to think of how the Locket had leeched on my magical energy. If I did the same with her, but only selectively, perhaps I could just...leech off the parts that didn't belong? Gods, this whole procedure made me feel my status as a Horcrux anomaly very acutely.

My hand that wasn't busy with Ginny's magic went to touch my scar on my forehead, feeling weird agitation in it. As I rubbed against it, I felt something pull at Ginny's magic and push its way inside my scar. It felt so weird and wrong that it made me shudder. I heard Snape gasp at my right and knew he just understood that my scar wasn't only there for its aesthetic appeal. Too late to worry about that now. Slowly, but surely, the Dark Lord's magical residue leaked out of Ginny's magic and went to join the Horcrux in my forehead, which stirred happily at such a gift. I felt sick at the thought of giving strength to it. It was as if I was encouraging it to talk to me and remind me that I had a separate consciousness inside me just bidding its time until it thought it would be fun to take over my body.

As the last of it was transferred into me, Ginny's magic flashed in a bright pale green colour and the girl slumped forward on Snape's desk.

I let myself fall back on the vacated chair next to her. It was much too delicate a procedure to do in my still weakened state and I was panting in exhaustion, struggling to catch my breath.

I felt ill at ease with that Magic churning in me. It just didn't belong there, no matter how good it felt when it came in contact with mine when I was with the Dark Lord. Maybe I'd just...empty it out to the Locket...if that was possible. Or just give it back to Marvolo, not that he needed the power boost, or whatever it would do.

Hermione had launched forward when she'd seen her friend fall and she was now shaking her awake. Or trying to, at least. I could only hope that I hadn't make it worse for her. At least, her magical signature looked purified now.

Hermione turned burning eyes on me.

"It's all your fault! What did you do to her?" she accused.

"What? Is she dead?" I croaked out worriedly, my voice thick with exhaustion.

"Miss Macmillan. Please desist with your dramatics. Miss Weasley shall be no worse off than before, at the very least. You should thank Mister Potter instead of lashing out your helplessness on him. I will bring her to the Infirmary where she will rest for the night. We will see the result of this intervention tomorrow when she'll have had time to gather her strength. Come now, you too, Miss Lovegood," he ordered, sweeping toward the door with a levitated Ginny and an anxious Hermione following closely.

The blond, Lovegood, stayed there looking at me, however. She didn't budge an inch at Snape's call.

"I think I'll stay here, Headmaster," she informed him.

"Luna! What are you doing? You can't stay alone with him! He's dangerous!" tried to whisper Hermione. Wow. I'd show her dangerous. I felt like I had been rolled over by the Knightbus. What a threat I was at the moment.

"No, it's fine. It will keep Harry company. Right, Harry?" she asked lightly.

"Sure, go ahead, Snape. I'll be fine here," I told him waving tiredly in his direction.

"Very well. I shall be back shortly," he said before sweeping out of the room.

The door closed on them with a muted thud. The girl, Luna, just sat at my side and returned to her seemingly vacant staring. Nargles, right.

"Didn't you want to ask me something?" I asked her. I thought that was why she had decided to stay.

"No, but you wanted to," she answered before I realised that she was right. I did want to ask her about her reaction to my relationship with the Dark Lord at the Ministry Ball. I didn't really know how to formulate my question, but she waited patiently for me to order my thoughts. Marvolo had this tendency to urge me to speak my mind without giving me time to think of what I was going to say and then either be offended by what came out of my mouth, or be amused by it. This calm patience was a novelty for me.

"Most people disapprove of my relationship with the Dark Lord, but you don't seem to and I was wondering why that was," I said carefully, even if the choice of words was a bit poor. I had the impression that if anyone wouldn't judge me for it, it was that girl.

"You fit. It's obvious, but most don't see it. People are silly like that, sometimes," she stated with an absent-minded smile.

"We...fit?" I asked with a lifted eyebrow.

She nodded categorically.

"Like you were two threads weaving a bracelet. Have you ever weaved a bracelet? I heard it's a terribly Muggle thing to do," she confided excitedly.

"Er...I've never weaved a bracelet, but I suppose it's kind of like...a plait? With hair, I mean?" I answered uncertainly.

At first, I thought this girl was a genius who could understand more than most because she was in tune with her Magic. Now, I wondered if she didn't have a mental problem of some sort. Maybe she was stuck with the mind of a child.

She just hummed in answer, looking off to the side and chasing invisible spots with her gaze.

"Did you know that Marvolo's favourite colour is fairy pink? I heard that fairy pink was a very rare shade of pink. A pink so intense it's nearly violent," she announced out of the blue. "But he doesn't like it as much as he needs you," she added, confusing me even more.

"Well, Miss Lovegood, you can head back to your dormitory now. Mister Potter and I have things to discuss," said Snape from his position at the doorway. Apparently, he had just returned in time to hear Luna's comment.

"Okay! Bye Harry! I'll see you at the naming ceremony!" she said, skipping to the door.

"Wait!" I called at her. "Which naming ceremony?"

She turned and giggled girlishly.

"Silly Harry, that's how you should be called. At your first-born's naming ceremony, of course! I'm not mad at you for your decision, by the way, just make me the godmother of your third child and I'll be happy!" She declared, running out of the room before I could question her more.

I was flabbergasted. _First-born...third child?_

Snape lifted an eyebrow at me.

"Planning for a family so soon?" he asked in mocking voice.

I reddened in embarrassment.

"No, I'm not! And I don't get it! I mean, I understand why Narcissa would want her daughter to have friends close to her age or why her head is revolving around babies at the moment, but this!" I exclaimed, waving my hand at the door through which Luna just exited. "This, I don't get."

"Miss Lovegood has baffled the best of us throughout her years in this institution. Her Head of House, Professor Flitwick, seems to think that she is a genius, but her other teachers are somewhat...divided in their opinion. I can safely say that I am glad not to be teaching anymore, if only because I do not have to deal with such concerns" declared Snape while settling behind his desk.

His dark eyes studied me for a moment.

"Sometimes, I find that she senses what most of us are too blind to perceive. In this particular case, however, I'm not sure if I wish her observation to come true," he declared.

I sighed at him, annoyed.

"Yeah, well, you and me both. Not before years at least," I tried to reassure him.

"I was not aware that you considered pursuing your relationship with the Dark Lord for years to come," he said neutrally.

I prepared myself to object, when I realised that yes, I had started to see it as more than a temporary arrangement. I was up to my neck in that relationship and it was dangerous to make myself so vulnerable, but at this point, I couldn't say that I was just taking it one day at a time.

"You know what? I think that it's going smoothly enough at the moment that I am starting to think of it as a long-term relationship. I mean, I know I'm young and everything, but well...it doesn't get much better than this. I'm sure of it. As long as he still wants me and keeps acting like he does now, I'm good to go for another 6 months, at least, and then more, if it still works." One could dream, right?

"I suppose I do not have to tell you to be careful of what you wish for," he replied cynically.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"No, but you could shed some light on why you had three ladies in your office after hours. Really, now, Snape, making them meet each other. I thought you had more class than that," I said, not being able to prevent my chuckling.

"I can safely assure you that I do not see why the Dark Lord would voluntarily submit himself to the torture of spending time around someone as young as you are.

-Hey!" I protested.

"Nor," he continued regardless. "do I share his current inclinations or...taste in this either. So, please, kindly refrain from making such distasteful suggestions. It is a clumsy and insulting attempt at interrogating me to know what they were doing here and what you interrupted."

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. Well, what a scolding. Snape had this gift to make me feel like a child sometimes.

The fact that he brought up the real reason of my teasing was enough to tell me that he'd tell me about it if I asked. So I did.

"So, what were they doing here?" I asked.

Snape made a dramatic pause, taking his time to weight me up pensively with his gaze, as if he was hesitating on what to tell me.

"The question should have been 'why these three young women in particular'," he commented after a while.

Did I mention that Snape was infuriating on purpose sometimes? One of the reasons I was well suited for the Dark Lord is that both of us lacked patience in discussions. That did make us say too direct or vaguely tactless things sometimes (or it made me do so, at least), but, that way, information passes quickly between us usually. This was pure torture compared to it.

"Fine. Why these three?" I asked, exasperated. He couldn't have just talked on his own, now, could he?

"Because it just so happens that they are all connected with the Rebellion somehow and in possession of important information. They transmit it to me, and I try to offer them...alternatives to their initial situation, while protecting them, to some extent, of any potential retribution for their actions," he explained.

"Are you just telling me that you are training three spies in different areas of the Rebellion? I mean, I had heard that you'd been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix at some point, but I thought those days were...over? Aren't they?" I asked him, surprised.

"You are still not asking the right questions. The right one here is: Why am I telling you so openly?" he corrected me. Dammit, what was it with him today?

"Right. That too," I said curtly.

He didn't say anything and just looked at me expectantly.

_Oh, for the love of_...

"Venerable Snape, would you please enlighten me as to why the effing heck you're being SO open and cooperative with me?" I bit out, pissed at his superior attitude. He had probably planned the right sentence to use down to the last intonation and was steering me until he could blurt it out perfectly.

"They are working for you," he said, as if that explained everything.

"That doesn't make any sense! That girl, Hermione, I never did anything to her and she was scared of leaving Luna in the same room alone with me!" I protested. Why the heck would they be working for me without my knowledge when I never even met them before today anyway?

"They are working for you, but they just don't know it yet. They think that they are working for me," he explained as if clarified anything.

"Why do you say that they are working for me at all, then?" I asked, confused.

"Because I'm working for you in this, primarily," said Severus dramatically.

I snapped my mouth shut and frowned at him uncomprehendingly.

"What about the Dark Lord?" I asked him. I wasn't sure I liked what I was hearing.

He inclined his head.

"It is convenient for me that you are both aligned in your loyalties. The Dark Lord, however, would not let one of these three students live if he knew what she did, directly or indirectly. I protect my students and I believe that you are more...reasonable about such things than my Master. And this is why, in matters pertaining to these three, I want you to be the middleman with the Dark Lord. I have tried to transmit the information I got anonymously through various channels, but it has never reached him appropriately. I want a more direct connection without associating my name with it," he explained.

A weight lifted off my shoulders.

"So, you're still loyal with the Dark Lord and won't ask me to go against him, right?" I asked, wanting to make sure.

He studied me intently.

"I do not think it would be necessary for you to do so. He is...particularly receptive to your opinion. In that sense, it is as if you have some power over him, because you can influence his judgment," he said slowly, putting strangely more emphasis on the word 'power' in his sentence.

"I don't know what you are insinuating, but he has just as much, if not a lot more power than I do in terms of who is influencing who here," I replied carefully.

He stayed silent for a while and then sighed.

"Harry, I'm not asking you to act against your lover, or even to try to manipulate him. I just want you to transmit some information for me without saying who gave it to you.

-Won't it look suspicious though if I always have new information after I come back from Hogwarts?" I asked, because it would, even to me.

"Of course it would, that's why you have to tell him that your contact is at Hogwarts and that you get in touch with them when you come to visit me," he reasoned.

I lifted an eyebrow at him.

"And...how would I have met this contact and gotten him to trust me enough for him to pass information? And if I'm just passing information from Hogwarts, won't he wonder why I don't just ask the student to go see you with it?

-I am hardly a popular and well-loved figure here. Someone who was associated with the Rebels wouldn't want to talk to me normally," he tried to convince me.

I had both of my hands pulling at my hair in worry by now.

"I can't pull it off, Snape. The Dark Lord, he sees through me. I'm rubbish at lying, or at hiding stuff from him. I'm not sure I even understand why you're putting me through this. Of course, I want the info transmitted, but you know him, he hates it when he can sense that people are making deals behind his back," I explained, defeated.

"So don't then. Just tell him that someone who prefers to stays anonymous gave you that information and that you're giving it to him and that's it," he reasoned.

Said like that, it sounded doable enough suddenly.

"That's it? No cover story, no excuses. Just a 'Hey, I've got this but I can't tell you where it comes from'..." I trailed off, thinking of the times in which he just let me keep my little secrets and had waited patiently until I came out with them. As it was, if there was anybody who could probably make him accept this strange deal, it was me. It wasn't as if he could suspect me of plotting in his back. He knew I'd be obvious about it.

"Yeah, okay. I'll do it. You're sure it's good info, though? I mean...I'd get in trouble if I was feeding him false information," I added uncertainly.

"Do you think I would take the risk of putting you up to it if I was unsure?" he challenged.

"No, probably not," I conceded, sighing.

"Well, give me the first batch then, if it's ready for consumption," I joked lamely, gathering my backpack again. I doubted there would be any warding experiment that day, after all.

Snape calmly gathered the notes he got about our experiment in one pile on his desk and was bending down to retrieve the information from one of his desk's drawers when I felt the weirdest thing happen in my scar. White-hot pain seared through my forehead and made me collapse on the ground under the onslaught.

Then, as quickly as it started, the pain abruptly ended, leaving me with a vague feeling of emptiness.

Something was wrong, something was really wrong. I touched my forehead and my hand came back bloody. It seemed to come from my scar...

I turned my head in Snape's direction, when the man approached to help me up from the floor. I watched him uncomprehendingly, evaluating what I could feel and wondering if my Horcrux reacted with the process I did earlier. And then it clicked. I wasn't the problem.

"Shit! Marvolo!" I shouted, gathering myself up, putting on my backpack and running as fast as I could to the Floo.

"Snape, gather Healing Potions and come to the Fortress!" I shot him before I disappeared in the flames.

.

o0o0o

I was thrown out in the Entrance Parlour of the Dark Lord's Fortress. I rolled up on my feet, baring no heed to my protesting muscles, and reached out with my magic. The library! There he was!

I ran as fast as I could, my heart beating fast in my panic and exertion. I kept a continuous stream of profanities in my head, all the while wondering what the heck could have hurt him so badly when he was still within his wards and I couldn't sense any intruders.

At long last, I reached the door of the Library, and I nearly took it off its frame in my hurry to open it. I also felt too freaking weak to manage such a feat.

I spotted a prone form right next to Marvolo's desk and sprinted to it, kneeling down beside it and scanning it magically for injuries.

I didn't find any. I examined him physically. His heart was beating (Thank the Gods!) and he was breathing regularly. It was as if he had just...fallen asleep on the ground. Right. Probably not.

I turned him on his back, because I had no idea what to do and he didn't look hurt. Then I levitated him to the sofa close by. It looked less dramatic if the Dark Lord was lying on a sofa than on the ground. It was as if he was just taking a nap before returning to his work. Even if that never happened, really.

At the back of my mind, I felt someone try to come into the wards of the Fortress. If the Master of the place was unconscious, it was a wonder that I had managed to come in at all. Most wards in old mansions were set so that everything went on a lockdown when the Master was vulnerable. Only family or implicitly trusted people were keyed in the wards. And I was, apparently. But I could think of what it implied later on when I wasn't running out of time.

I reached out to the wards, trying to identify the visitor. Snape. Right. He had come in with the Healing Potions like I'd asked. I didn't have access to the wards enough to let him come in, though.

I chose to send him a Patronus to explain that he couldn't come in because of the wards, but that the Dark Lord looked fine, physically at least.

I turned back to the Dark Lord who was still unconscious and frowned, trying to guess what went wrong. As I frowned, I felt a weird thing in my scar and it reminded me of the magic I had just extracted from Ginny's energy. Could it help him?

I put a hand on my scar and the other on Marvolo's forehead, working to push the additional magic in him.

It didn't work. It was stuck in my scar. The greedy Horcrux didn't want to let it go. Damn it, but I didn't have time for his ego. Marvolo needed me. I mentally begged with it and focused all of my tired energy on the task. Drop by drop, reluctantly, it did go back to its creator. But the Dark Lord still didn't move. It did make the awkward feeling I had felt since I had extracted it go away, at least.

What else could I do? Give him Potions, maybe? But which ones and how could I get them here?

Something clicked and I berated myself for having forgotten about the House-Elves. They could have gotten me to the library much more rapidly, after all.

_§ House-Elf? § _I called, because they had never told me their name.

One of them popped in and nearly scared the wits out of me with his nasty appearance. Not that it was their fault the Dark Lord had cursed them.

_§ I need Potions for your Master... § _I started to say and he clicked his fingers, making a hot pink potion appear. I had never seen such potion, but the peculiar colour reminded me of something. What had Luna said again? The Dark Lord's favourite colour was 'fairy pink'? Violent pink? And that he needed it?

I looked down at Marvolo's peaceful form again. Could I give him a potion based on what a weird girl had said and what a house-elf had brought? I thought of sending another Patronus to Snape to ask him, but he hadn't replied to the first...what if they couldn't reach me here?

I scanned the potion with every spell I knew, but it didn't seem toxic. What was the worst that could happen? Poison him? Oh, Morgana, what if it killed him and no Healer could come in to save him because of the wards? What if I was fulfilling the Prophecy right now? Nobody else could come in the Fortress and his life might depend on what I do.

I took in a few calming breaths and decided to go for it and trust my lucky star.

How did one go about giving a Potion to someone unconscious? I put the flask down on the ground for a minute and lifted a hand to his mouth, parting his lips. His teeth were clenched so I started to pull them apart slowly, putting a finger in between to keep them open as I reached down to get the Potion. And that's when he bit me. Hard.

"Owwww! What the heck? You nearly bit my finger off! You could have told me you were awake, dammit!" I accused the obviously not unconscious Dark Lord.

Stormy red eyes snapped open, observing me shrewdly.

"And what, pray tell, were you about to do?" he said with an edge in his voice.

"I was about to give you a Potion your house-elf brought me. It's a damn good thing you woke up just now because I have no idea what it does," I confessed leaning down to pick up the bottle.

"What is this for? It's not poisonous, right? Please tell me I didn't nearly kill you."

His eyes narrowed on the Potion before he smoothened out his facial expression in what must have been his worst poker face in years.

He sighed and looked tired. Well, he had just lost consciousness after all. Wow. Something or someone had made him unconscious. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

And then suddenly, he looked angry again.

"So, you've come to finish the work, then? How many Horcruxes have you destroyed yet?" he accused me.

I gaped at him, hovering between incomprehension and outrage.

He sat up suddenly, nearly pushing me off the sofa in his abrupt movement. I felt a twinge of discomfort in my scar.

"Was this your master plan, then? Infiltrate my Fortress and my life to take me down better? Did you think I wouldn't see through your scheming? Did you think I would be blind to your blatant manipulations?" he seethed.

"I've known for months that you were nothing but a disgusting thief! And now that you have made your move, you will suffer the consequences of your traitorous actions," he pronounced, withdrawing his wand and pointing it at me suddenly.

I backed away from him quickly, my empty hands lifted to show him that I was harmless.

He swiftly got up from the sofa. His eyes were flashing with an insane fury; his magic was unfurling and threatening, snapping dangerously around me.

"I swear I didn't touch your Horcruxes, Marvolo," I started, but he interrupted me with a shout of rage and I narrowly dodged a nasty curse by throwing myself to the side. I fell painfully on the ground, struggling to get up again because of my weak and strained muscles. The run to the library already had already been pushing my limits, but I was in no shape to dodge spells around.

"Don't call me that name! You lost that privilege when you tried to destroy everything I have built!" he shouted viciously.

Obviously, something was wrong here. He wasn't making any sense.

"Mar...Voldemort," I called out from my hiding place behind another sofa. "Why would I have destroyed your Horcrux now and not months ago when you didn't know I had it?"

"I will not let you lie and manipulate me out of this, Potter! You are my enemy and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise!" he shouted back with a curse that made the sofa blow up seconds after I had left its cover to dive behind a bookshelf. Surely, he wouldn't damage his precious books so easily, right?

"Come on! Just stop and think! Why would I have done that? When I left earlier today, the Locket was still here, in my rooms. Is it still there? Did someone take it?" I asked, trying to reconstruct what had happened.

"Your death will be my ultimate victory! I will cut you in pieces and hang them in all corners of Wizarding Britain! And the world shall bow before my uncontested triumph once again!" he said, rejoicing at the prospect, before pausing slightly.

"Ahhh, Severusssss," he hissed out nearly in Parseltongue as Snape arrived in the door frame and took in the scene with the blasted sofas and scorched walls. "You have arrived right in time to witness the final showdown. Rather fitting, isn't it?" asked Voldemort in a mocking tone of joy.

Snape kept his neutral face and bowed to his Master respectfully. Then it occurred to me that I hadn't seen him do so except for at Marvolo's birthday in front of all the Death Eaters. It seemed like Snape immediately got that something wasn't right. I saw his glance trail down on the ground and a look of understanding filter in as he saw the pink potion still lying there. It must be something significant.

"Severus, I asked you a question. _Crucio!_" he shot, delighting in the screams that rose moments after.

Fuck, had he gone insane or what? A sense of dread coiled in my stomach at the thought.

Snape picked himself up slowly after the spell ended.

"Yes, my Lord, I do believe it is rather fitting. May I ask what made you change your mind about the brat?" he asked carefully.

"Brat is too light a word for that worthless traitor. Did you know he conspired to have me killed, Severus? I cannot help but to think that he has had help from someone inside of my ranks to succeed so well. And really, Severussss, with a past such as yours, you seem like a prime suspect," he accused, seeming to give all his attention to Snape now.

I desperately tried to put my ideas into order and calm down despite the crazy situation.

The last thing I wanted now was to have to duel the Dark Lord when he was in such a state and I felt so exhausted.

Right, so, what had happened? I felt pain through our link, he seems physically fine, but had fainted. Perhaps the pain was magical or psychological. He thought I destroyed his Horcruxes. Something must be wrong with them, then. Moody must have destroyed one or more of them.

Realisation filtered through my mind at the implication.

Shit, if Moody had destroyed soul pieces, the fragile balance between them was probably shattered. And Marvolo was back to being a paranoid, angry, insane Dark Lord, who apparently thought he was surrounded by traitors. Great.

Severus was under the Cruciatus again. I winced at the sight of this proud man twisting and screaming on the ground. Apparently, he had tried to suggest to the Dark Lord to take the pink Potion. Was it something like a mood stabiliser, perhaps?

_I have to do something, I have to do something_, I repeated in my head while my leg bounced nervously on the ground. I spotted the House-Elf from earlier hovering nervously in a corner, probably trying to decide whether he should repair the damage caused by his insane master or leave them to pile up until the Dark Lord had calmed down. He popped to me when I hissed lowly for him to come.

_§ Young Master? §_ he whispered in question.

_§ Listen, I want you to go in my room, check in the wardrobe, in the box at the bottom, there will be a Locket, hopefully. If it's there, bring it to me. Can you do that? §_ I asked him, all the while keeping track of the still furious Dark Lord in the middle of the room.

The House-Elf disappeared and Voldemort turned to me suddenly.

"So you are exploiting my gift against me, then? You are using Parseltongue to turn even my servants against me? Your impudence knows no bounds! Everything you think you have is mine! Mine!" he shouted, sending a pure dose of Dark Magic spiralling in my direction.

Oh fuck, the dodging was back on. Only this time, Snape had joined my tired dance. Voldemort herd us both towards the same point, making us nearly collide in each other in our hurry to dodge his spells. I panted with difficulty, feeling my chest constricting painfully. I wasn't supposed to go head on against him like that now...everything felt wrong. I also knew that the only reason the Duel hadn't started was because I hadn't fought back. I didn't know how long I could keep it up without defending myself with my Magic, however.

"Charming relationship you have there, Potter," whispered Snape in a sardonic voice as he deflected a spell for both of us.

I huffed in derision.

"Yeah, because that's exactly what we get up to every night. You just disturbed our daily foreplay here, Snape," I shot him back sarcastically while keeping an eye on the Dark Lord.

"Ahhh, why am I not surprised to see the two traitors getting along so well...are you also lovers? How touching of you both. Particularly from you, Snape. Were you tired to long for the cadaver of his mother and wanted a taste of living flesh?" mocked the Dark Lord.

I shot a look at Snape, who seemed pained somewhat at the suggestion. Snape had liked my mother that way?

I shook the thought out of my head. It was not important at the moment. The House-Elf suddenly took advantage of the small break in curses to pop back in and hand me the Locket. I took it and brandished it before me, making the Dark Lord see it clearly.

"See? I haven't touched it! It's still there! Intact! I haven't destroyed any of them! " I pleaded with him to understand.

"So you have destroyed the others and are now threatening me the two remaining?" he accused, before snapping his head to Snape who had taken advantage of Voldemort being busy with me to try to Accio the vial of Potion to him. The Dark Lord saw it and shot a dark paralysing curse to Snape, while he purposely stepped on the glass and shattered it, making the liquid spread on the carpet beneath his foot.

In the meanwhile, trying not to think too hard of the absurdity of what I was attempting, I ran up to him and launched myself on the Dark Lord. I collided painfully with his side, sending him sprawling under me. I wrestled briefly to keep his arms pinned down and just thrust the Locket to him. When it touched his skin, I felt my scar burn as the Locket reacted to the contact with its mother soul. The Dark Lord screamed in pain and writhed under me. I lowered myself on him completely, pinning him to the ground and pressing my forehead to his chest while I slipped the Locket's chain around his neck and held it down against his heart.

I screwed my eyes shut as tightly as I could when I heard my lover continue to scream in gut wrenching agony. I hated to cause him pain, even if he had sent me horrible curses not a minute ago. As time passed, I was more lying on him than holding him down. My head went to the crook of his neck and I just held him tight to me. After a while, the screams stopped. When I felt hesitating hands settle on my back in return, I couldn't help the two drops that escaped my eyes and stained his shoulder. I had nearly lost him. I had nearly lost him. I had nearly lost him.

I felt Marvolo sigh from beneath me, and one of his hands went up to bury itself in my hair and caress the back of my head.

"You can go now, Severus. Everything is under control. You would do well not to breathe a word of what happened in this room," I heard him say in his familiar calm tone. It had a resigned, wistful tone to it that wasn't usual, however. I heard the rustle of robes moving and picked my head up to see Snape bend down to gather the case of Healing Potions he had brought for nothing and to head silently to the door, shaking slightly from the two bouts of Cruciatus under which he had been put, despite his best efforts.

As he reached the doorstep, however, Marvolo surprised me.

"Severus," he called, sounding nearly hesitant. His brow was slightly creased and his lips had tightened.

Snape stopped and hovered in place for a moment, visibly surprised at being called again. When he did turn around, he had his usual poker face on perfectly.

"Thank you for your help today. You did well," offered the Dark Lord uncharacteristically. Snape couldn't stop his brows from lifting in surprise at the words. He did, however, nod sharply in answer and bow respectfully again.

"I only seek to serve you at the best of my abilities, my Lord," he replied in that low, deep voice of his. He shot me an undecipherable look before he swiftly turned back and exited the room.

I let my head fall on Marvolo's chest again, exhausted by the day's event.

The hand went back to carding through my hair. It felt divine and I couldn't help but relax under his ministrations.

He sighed again, this time a bit sadly.

"Harry...I'm sorry for making you go through that," he said, after a while.

I stayed silent, thinking of the ordeal and how draining and worrying and so freaking terrifying it had been. Not so much for my personal safety, or for the catastrophic consequences an insane Dark Lord would have on the world, but for what it meant for the Dark Lord himself. He had said once that one of the worst feelings in the world was feeling like you were loosing your sanity, loosing control on your actions. Becoming insane again for the Dark Lord was also like losing his sense of self. And I had been terrified of loosing Marvolo to Voldemort.

"I'm just glad you feel better now," I replied, but it felt inadequate.

"Because you don't have to fear for your life so much anymore?" he asked, his tone self-deprecating.

"I was afraid I had lost you," I confessed, closing my eyes and rubbing my cheek slightly on his chest.

He stayed silent this time. I hadn't expected him to return my mushy confession, but when he kept on caressing the back of my head and his other hand started to traced idle circles on the small of my back, it felt like an answer.

Then I remembered something.

"What was the Potion for?" I asked, propping myself up to look at his face.

He turned his head in the direction of the shattered glass.

"It's a Potion I had Severus design for me after my resurrection when I was struggling to keep myself from slipping back into my insane persona. The...balance between the Horcruxes is very delicate and, over the years, deteriorated slightly. I often thought of reabsorbing another to help it, but the Potion was effective enough to be sufficient, until some of my Horcruxes were destroyed today, that is," he explained.

"I never saw you take any Potions," I remarked. It was the first time I had ever seen a Potion of that colour as well.

"I didn't need to, when you were there. The Horcrux in you stabilises me," he admitted.

I felt my chest fill with warmth at the admission and I smiled down at him in answer.

"You know, you might not have been far from the target when you said we were soul mates. It seems as though the Horcrux link wants to keep us together..." I trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the mushiness of my remark.

He sighed, but did not say anything else. I got off him when he made to stand and offered him a hand to pull him up. He didn't take it. I guessed it was a pride thing, but I still felt a pang of disappointment at my rejected gesture.

He looked exhausted, but I knew he wouldn't say anything about it. I felt completely knackered after the run, the dodging and the panicking, so I guessed I could lure him in bed with me if I played my cards well. I could always get him there with the promise of sex, but I felt way too tired to do any type of physical activity at the moment, so I had to find something else.

He made a few steps towards the table on which he had been working before the 'incident' happened, as if he was just readying to sit down and start whatever complicated task he was working on before. I didn't completely fake the muscle cramp that made me hold on to the nearest thing that could support my weight, but the subsequent fall on the ground when the half-destroyed chair on which I had tried to lean collapsed, was totally authentic. And made me look really pathetic, but what else was new?

The Dark Lord snorted tiredly and shook his head at me, as if he was exasperated by my antics. He threw a glance at his work and waved his wand at it finally, ordering the papers in neat piles for the next time he'd work on them.

Then, he walked up to me and gave me a hand so that I could pick myself off the floor.

I grinned sheepishly at him when I was back at the vertical and standing close to him.

"I think I really should go to bed..." I hinted at covertly.

Marvolo rolled his eyes at me.

"Do not think I am blind to your poor attempts at subtlety, Harry. Yes, I will also join you," he replied.

We headed to bed and fell asleep quickly that night.

.

How the brat did it was a mystery. If his lover had threatened Severus to death, he wouldn't have stayed with said lover, even after she calmed down. There would have always been this nagging thought that perhaps he'd get assassinated in his sleep by the one person he was supposed to trust marginally.

Then again, he hadn't had a lover who stayed the night in so long that he was positive he wouldn't be able to rest with someone else close by anyway.

And perhaps Potter thrilled on the danger of having an unstable lover. Severus wouldn't put it past him to be slightly masochistic. He was the Dark Lord's lover, after all.

He sighed to himself as he walked in the long, deserted corridors of Hogwarts at night.

Seventeen of age and the blasted boy faced an angry, insane Dark Lord without a shadow of a doubt. A strange churning started in his gut as he tried to determine whether he felt jealous of the boy's confidence, or angry at his carelessness.

For all of his conclusions about Harry being in a prime position to influence the Dark Lord for the better, there has been little to none improvements on that front in the last months. Perhaps, considering the circumstances, he had Harry to thank for keeping his Lord in a relatively stable mood up until now.

And, if Severus was honest with himself, he could spot a few differences in the insane anger that had overtaken his Lord that day and the crises he used to have before and shortly after his resurrection. Despite his visible infuriation, the Dark Lord never shot a Killing Curse, or any life-threatening curses towards Harry. He himself had only had a few Disembowelling curses and Crucios to dodge. Somewhere beneath the ire, Voldemort must have known that he was slipping, must have had a certain degree of restraint. Severus had seen insanity in his Master, and he had seen how the latter reacted when he was really angry. He, at the very least, would have been dead in a matter of seconds if his Master had really lost control.

This was a good sign. _A very good sign, indeed, in the current circumstances,_ he thought as he let himself drop down on the heavy chair that used to belong to his old Headmaster.

He thought back of Harry's indignant expression as the boy forgave him for his part in his parents' murder. Perhaps forgiveness was the wrong word. He had said that the guilt was misplaced. That anybody who said otherwise was only trying to manipulate him.

It was not a novel reflection to his mind, not by any stretch of imagination. But it felt good to hear it confirmed by someone else, someone who had suffer at least as much as he did from his actions.

By habit, he conjured up a mental picture of Lily, as she had looked when they were still friends: a happy young woman, unburdened by the weight of a war and responsibilities that really shouldn't be thrust on such inexperienced students. Hogwarts had always been Dumbledore's favourite hunting grounds for recruits, but it had always felt wrong to Severus. Why so young? Did he need them so naive, so candid? Were older wizards too jaded to join in a dangerous movement if they hadn't been previously recruited as students?

Severus shook his head in discontent. None of it mattered anymore. Dumbledore was long dead, and he only left behind shadows of his noble goals. Oh, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts was aware of his predecessor's ambiguous morals. After his death, a few of his oldest acquaintances stepped forward to help tarnish his image. Some of it had been absurd, like the scandalous piece of gossip that had portrayed him as Grindelwald's lover, but Severus knew enough to recognise Dumbledore's methods in the dogma "For the Greater Good".

What was the world left with, he wondered, years after Dumbledore's demise and months after the decimation of the Rebellion? Not much, he was forced to conclude. A relatively stable government, a few political games, foreign tensions and upcoming conflicts. A leader whose sanity, he suspected, edged largely on the shoulders of troubled teen unconscious of his power over the Dark Lord. It was ironical that, by his dubious association with the Leader of Wizarding Britain, Harry had essentially became the only one that had some influence on him and, as such, the second most powerful political figure of the regime. "_And the Dark Lord marked him as his equal_", indeed.

The civil war reached its conclusion more than a decade ago, but children were still tied to its consequences. And helping this new generation was what he had tasked himself with.

Somebody had to, he thought with a sigh, noticing the late hour. He searched his desk for the research notes he had placed there earlier for his meeting with Harry. They had made considerable progress in their project, and Harry had proved himself a talented and invested Wardmaster, to his surprise. Self-interest did wonder for the boy's attention span. He couldn't say the same for Harry's performance in Potions, sadly. That part of the project was left solely to him, but he did not mind delving back in his old passion. He had even toyed a few times already with the idea of bringing Draco into the equation, to foster his godson's interest in Potions. It would also bring Harry and Draco closer, which could only be beneficial for both of them, as far as he could see.

Severus at last spotted his notes at the corner of his desk. His keen eyes narrowed in thought. He never placed his papers so far on the left of his desk. He preferred to have them within arm's reach and was quite exact in how everything was positioned in his workplace. Several factors could have influenced the place where he put the papers, such as, a non-centered chair, the slight slide that hastily dropped paper tended to have on smooth tables... the gap of two inches in the window behind him which could possibly have blown the papers forward given the proper angle of the wind and the right strength... but even if he allowed space for a certain error margin, he could not see how he could have put the papers so far on the outside on the desk. It was a close call, however. He formed the hypothesis that someone could have picked them up, read them, perhaps copied them (if the telling lack of dust on the upper left corner of his desk was an indication), and placed them back down in the approximate location they came from.

Severus got up smoothly, approaching the pile of papers slowly, examining the surroundings. The pile was neater than his had been, but the last sheets had moved slightly to the right, as if they had been dropped hastily on the desk. Not from a great height, however, or they would have spread more. He bent down and sniffed carefully the parchment. Standard Hogwarts bathroom soap, no identifiable perfume. A faint trace of ink covered fingerprint. Not complete enough for effective analysis. No dents, or folds in the paper. The person was careful. A long brown hair, on a chair next to the desk, but he had received Hermione Macmillan for their briefing that night and that girl's hair was just begging to be used for Polyjuice, leaving its unwanted gifts everywhere.

He traced the way back to the door of his office. One chair had been pushed out of the way. It was difficult to ascertain whether it had been done before or after his departure for the Dark Lord's Fortress. The three girls and Harry had moved the chairs around a bit, but the alignment of the gap between the pile of paper on his desk and the door was too obvious to be discarded completely. It went to confirm his theory of a hasty departure. The proximity spell on the area in front of the Gargoyles would have alerted him of a presence, if the person's escape had been prompted by his return by Floo. They had left at least a few minutes before his return, then. The person obviously had the password, but this didn't mean much considering that the prefects and Heads of House had the permission to give it out to anyone who might be tempted to come and talk to him. It might be sentimental of him, but he had never liked the secrecy surrounding the Headmaster's office that had been in place when he went to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had made it so that everyone summoned to his Office would feel special. After a few hours of fruitless wait in front of the Gargoyles to show the Headmaster the bruises he got from the Marauders, he certainly had not felt special to the old wizard.

A student or a professor, then. About average height, with a certain carefulness in how they handled the parchment. No frilly perfume, the good sense to wash their hands...afraid enough of being caught in the Headmaster's office to leave in a hurry before they got caught red-handed...no professor, then.

Frowning at how inconclusive his search was, he changed his point of focus to the papers in question.

Harry and he were attempting to create personal wards to prevent aligned (Light or Dark) ambient magic from affecting their bearer. Unbeknownst to Harry, the Dark Lord had accepted to fund the research costs (namely, the books and Potion ingredients) because he hoped to extend the project to area wards for Hogwarts. If the wards worked, after all, they could try to teach more advanced Dark Arts to a select talented few without poisoning the rest of the students. Yearlong practise would help the Dark students to maintain a certain magical stability while allowing them to develop their skills further than the current summer tutoring in their family houses.

As far as research projects sponsored by the Dark Lord went, this one was relatively tame in appearance. He said "in appearance" because anything that came close to playing with magical containment needed to be flagged as delicate and potentially destructive. What Harry sought to achieve was some sort of magical filter. What they were toying with, in practice, was the interaction between ambient and inner magic in a magical Being. His task in this project was to not only design the Potion to limit the effect of the ward to one individual, but also to prevent Harry from creating something that blocked someone's magic from interacting with ambient Magic to form spells. He would report back to his Master his conclusion on the feasibility of the second ward without informing Harry of what ignominious invention he would be partly responsible for. Severus was not sure of whether he would really tell the Dark Lord if he found out that magical block in the form of a ward, or that something more permanent tied to a certain person, was possible.

That somebody copied their research notes was worrying. Severus doubted that whoever took them could infer the dangerous ramifications of their project just by glancing at the notes, but caution and extensive enquiries were advisable. His first move, upon reaching this conclusion, was to activate the monitoring of all communications from Hogwarts to the rest of the world. He wasn't sure whether to inform the Dark Lord, or even Harry of this development. He would see first if he could find the culprit on his own before blowing this out of proportion. He might have underestimated the range of his arm; he might have misread the signs. He did not want to bring down the Dark Lord's fury and currently unstable temper on him unnecessarily. Tomorrow, he would start doing a deeper enquiry among the student body.

He frowned, examining his conclusion, before glancing at the pile of papers lying innocently on the table. Perhaps he had been too hasty in thinking that they had been moved from where he put them. Only time would tell. He swept out of the room, the lights extinguishing themselves when he stepped in his bed chambers.

Had he looked out of his office window at that moment, he would have seen the gleaming silhouette of an owl disappearing in the horizon, already far from Hogwarts' wards, a stack of parchment between its talons.

* * *

So, two Horcruxes down in one day, plans for a dangerous ward potentially stolen, our favourite Dark Lord's fragile sanity...things are heating up!

Let me know what you thought of it! Thank you in advance for reviewing :)


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